UC-NRLF 


KATHERINE  S.  NICHOLS. 


GIFT   OF 

/^IXl/ .      IS],\S(^WV^0 


IN 
SUNSET 


LAND 


KATHER1NE  S. 


These  pen-pictures  of  the  fair  and  grand, 
O,  reader  and  friend  I  bring  to  thee: 

Things  in  our  far-away  summer  land, 

That  trend  to  shore  of  the  western  sea. 


WINTER    ANjJ  \Uft-IStjtfV     ',  •    '     '.       •'        '  '.       •  COPYRIGHTED 

HAVERHh.L,   -Miss'          *    *        "  1889 


c 


O  N  T  E  N  T  S . 


SUNSET  LAND.  PAGE. 

SUNSET  LAN D 5 

WILD  FLOWERS 

ESCHOLTZIAS 12 

BABY'S  E\'ES—.VfM0jAi/a 15 

MAXZANITA 17 

SNOW  FLOWER  OF  THE  SIERRA 20 

JACOB'S  LADDER  OF  THE  HIGH  SIERRA 25 

THE   SEASONS 

NEW  YEAR'S  DAY  IN  SAN  FRANCISCO 30 

A  FEBRUARY  MORNING  IN  LOS  ANGELES 34 

AFTER  THE  WINTER  RAINS 38 

TRADE  WINDS 45 

AFTER  THE  WINDS 50 

SEPTEMBER 55 

OCTOBER % 57 

NOVEMBER 60 

THE  DECEMBER  RAINS 63 

ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 

SHELL  BEACH 68 

KELP  BEACH 71 


2888. 


PESCADERO 73 

MOSS  BEACH 76 

SEA   ANEMON E 80 

SINGING  SANDS 83 

THE  CLIFFS 85 

SAN  LORENZO  BAY  87 

MISCELLANEOUS 

YO  SEMITE  VALLEY 90 

WEBER  VALLEY 107 

WEBER  AND  ECHO  CANONS 112 

GRAND  CANON  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE 124 

MOU NT  S H ASTA 127 

GOLDEN  GATE 131 

UP  THE  SAN  JAQUIN 139 

MONTE  DEL  DIABLO 144 

LAPIEDRA  PINTADA 151 

UP  AND  FROM  MOUNT  DIABLO 158 

LONE  MOUNTAIN t 161 

M  AMMOUTH  TREES 164 

SAN  FRANCISCO  BAY 169 

FIRST  ARBOR  DAY 175 

BERKLEY  IN  WINTER 178 

OVER  THE  BAY 181 

CHOW-CHIL-LA 183 

THE  CREEK 1 86 

SU PRO'S  STATUE  OF  LIBERTY 189 

CONSERVATORY  FOUNTAIN-SAN  FRANCISCO 192 

THE  ENCAMPMENT  OF  1886 196 

TO  THE  PACIFIC... 


SUNSET    LAND. 


Land  of  sunshine,  land  of  wonders, 
XVilds  with  novel  forms  replete, 

Land  of  every  change  of  climate, 
Frost  and  cold  or  torrid  heat. 

Rich  in  quaint  and  startling  beauty, 

Is  this  sunset  wonderland, 
With  its  canons,  vales  and  sea-shore, 

Lowlands,  hills,  and  mountains  grand. 

From  Alaska's  glacial  rivers, 

Pressing  through  the  wastes  of  snow, 

From  the  heights  where  fall  large  ice-blocks, 
Plunging  down  to  depths  below. 


SUNSET   LAND. 


Broad  Columbia  rolls  her  waters 

In  a  mighty  flood  along. 
Rolling  on  'mid  glowing  wonders 

Tuned  to  nature's  primal  song. 

And  lone  Shasta's  high  head  hoary, 

Rises  o'er  a  glacial  flow, 
With  broad  moraines,  the  lands  tree-crowned, 

And  green  meadows  spread  below. 

And  from  the  high  eastern  border, 
Where  the  golden  sun  gleams  bright, 

O'er  the  Yellowstone's  teeming  wonders, 
Glory-rays  in  morning  light. 


SUNSET   LAND. 


O'er  the  rocky  tips  of  mountains 

And  along  the  lowlands  green, 
Through  the  canon's  pillared  wildness 

To  light  the  geyser  founts  of  steam. 

Along  the  Coast  Range,  and  Sierra's 

Topmost  head  in  snowy  veil, 
Through  wilds,  where  roam  bear  and  panther 

To  Yosemite's  wonder-dale. 

O'er  cliffs,  fanned  by  white-winged  sea-birds, 
Where  the  wild  waves  surge  and  roar, 

Through  Golden  Gate  to  bay  land-locked 
And  ship-lined,  along  its  shore. 


SUNSET    LAND. 


Steepled  cliffs  on  the  curling  sea-shore, 
And  the  moss-strewn,  wave-washed  sand, 

O'er  points  storied,  and  fanes  templed, 
To  the  flower-decked  hills  of  land. 

Cratered  mountains,  where  flames  lurid 
Rose  to  light  the  barren  plain, 

Inky  smoke  that  spread  its  darkness 
O'er  the  fields  now  bright  with  grain. 

To  the  treeless  waste  and  dreary, 

Of  the  burning,  barren  land. 
Where  the  cacti  bloom  to  brighten 

The  dry  dunes  of  yellow  sand. 


>r\SKT    I. AM). 


Bright  Sunset-land,  our  wonderland 
That  slopes  to  the  western  sea, 

Where  hills  are  veined  with  ore  golden 
And  metal  to  set  it  free. 


Where  spread  lakes  like  seas  of  silver, 

And  rivers  in  might}'  flow, 
That  spring  from  cold  beds  glacial, 

'Xeath  high  mountains  crowned  with  snow 

Where  long  hills  are  green  with  grasses. 

And  valleys  are  filled  with  grain. 
( )range  trees,  brown  and  olive. 

Crown  the  hillside,  vale  and  plain. 


10  SUNSET   LAM). 


And  here,  on  this  soil,  so  fruitful, 
By  the  aid  of  wealth  and  skill 

Sand  dunes  change  to  homes  of  beauty 
Art  is  traced  o'er  vale  and  hill. 


For  an  end,  and  to  things  higher, 
The  people  draw  on  every  hand, 

Thus  to  brighten  and  make  useful, 
Point  and  space  in  Sunset-land. 

And  abroad,  'mong  nations  foreign, 
Has  this  greatness  won  a  name, 

So,  that  wonders  in  Sunset-land 
Have  ever  a  growing  fame. 


WILD  FLOWERS 


ESCHOLTZ1A. 

(CALIFORNIA    LILY.) 

Of  the  many  flowering  glories, 

That  adorn  the  sunset  land, 
The  escholtzia  most  profusely, 

Hrightly  blooms  on  creamy  sand. 

( )ver  every  hill  and  hollow, 

Lifts  it  up  its  golden  head  ; 
Painted  cups  in  brilliant  clusters, 

Deck  the  violet's  fragrant  bed. 

When  sun-rays  and  winds  of  springtime 
Warm  the  land  and  melt  the  snows, 

It  blooms  larger  then  and  brighter, 
Like  spring  buds  it  thriving  grows. 


WILD    FLOWERS.  13 


Blooms  beside  the  bright-eyed  pansy's 
Quaint  faced  flowers  that  children  prize,- 

Coreopsis  and  nemophila's 

Pretty  bright  blue  baby's  eyes. 

And  throughout  the  year  of  sunshine, 
The  dry  months  and  months  of  rain, 

Blooms  in  beauty  'neath  the  hedges, 
And  in  shade  upon  the  plain. 

O'er  Sierra's  lower  mountains, 

Fairer  in  a  snowy  white, 
Mottled  with  pale  gold  and  crimson, 

Dazzling  in  its  beauty  bright. 


14  WILD    FLOWERS. 


As  yellow  and  red  field  lillies 
Bloom  on  the  Atlantic  coast, 

Kscholtzias  on  the  Pacific 

Spread  their  brilliant  golden  host. 

Bearing  semblance  to  the  lily, 
It  receives  from  this  its  name, 

And  though  common  is  prized  fitly, 
As  the  lily  is  its  fame. 


BABY'S    EYES. 

NEMOPHILA. 

Sweet  Baby's  eyes  of  starry  blue, 

That  tender,  wonder-wide  and  true, 

Ope  mid  the  young  spring's  grass  and  grain, 

When  earth  is  moist  with  winter's  rain. 


Like  daisies  fair  that  star  the  meads, 
Or  iris  that  blooms  among  the  reeds,' 
Low  on  the  ground,  its  smiling  eyes 
Look  up  to  deep  cerulean  skies. 

As  looks  a  child  with  steady  gaze 
Up  from  amid  the  grassy  maze, 
In  trust,  that  all  the  winds  that  move, 
Will  come  to  it  with  perfect  love. 


1 6  WILD    FLOWERS. 


They  brighten  through  spring's  sunny  days 
The  grove  and  field  and  narrow  ways, 
With  coreopsis'  yellow  bloom, 
That  flaunts  its  gold  in  higher  room. 

So  wake  anew  mid  grass  and  thyme, 
Bright  Baby's  Eyes  each  new  spring-time. 
When  in  the  meadows  soft  and  clear, 
The  lark  and  linnet  sing  with  cheer. 


MANZANITA. 

ARCTOSTAPHYLOS    GLAUCA. 

Richly  dark-veined  manzanita, 

Red-brown,  veining  with  the  white, 

Growing  fair  in  copse  and  dingle, 
Glowing,  ever,  with  the  light. 

Close-set  branches,  thick  with  green  leaves, 
On  the  trees,  o'er  hill  and  plain. 

Gleam  in  bright  and  glossy  sparkle, 
As  though  wet  with  dew  or  rain. 

Shining  as  by  rain-drops  varnished 
Through  the  days  supernal  light. 

Shining  when  the  stars  and  moonbeams, 
Shower  their  glories  on  the  night. 


I(S  WILD    FLOWERS. 


But  when  clustered  snowy  blossoms, 
Glow  amid  the  leaves  so  fair, 

And  their  waxen  bells  like  censers, 
Pour  sweet  perfume  on  the  air. 

From  their  snowy  plumes  sweet-scented. 
Waxen  white  with  lustrous  green, 

Pure  waxen  flowers  and  glossy  leaves, 
O  the  wondrous,  glowing  sheen  ! 


Through  them  sunlight  weaves  its  blushes, 

Fair  as  tints  of  rosy  dawn, 
Oh,  the  blooming  manzanita, 

Sweet  as  breath  of  sunny  morn  ! 


WILD    FI.O\YKRS.  19 


Blossoms,  pure  as  love  in  pureness, 

Deepening  into  rosy  rays  ; 
But  like  faith  the  green  leaves  cluster, 

Clinging  through  the  winter  days. 

And  ere  winter  days  are  over. 

Usher  they  the  blooming  spring, 
While  through  fields  of  grain  and  clover, 

Glad  bird-voices  sweetlv  ring. 


SNOW-FLOWER  OF  THE  SIERRA 

SARCODES    SANGUINEANA. 

On  Sierra's  sunset  mountains 
In  the  glow  of  supernal  light, 

Amid  the  snow,  cold  and  eternal, 

That  crowns  their  everlasting  height. 

And  on  all  the  lower  pathways 

And  steep  trails  up  the  mountain  side, 

Grows  the  red-flower,  bright  Sarcodes, 
Sanguineana  in  its  pride. 

And  bright  in  a  crimson  glory, 
The  crimson  set  in  waxen  white, 

Crimson  stem  and  leaves  and  petals, 
With  crimson  bells  glow  in  the  light. 


WILD    FLOWERS.  21 


In  white  fair  as  Alpine's  blossom. 
The  Alpine  snow-flower  Edelweiss, 

That  climbs  highest  snow-clad  mountains. 
And  blooms  amid  the  snow  and  ice. 


And  as  blooms  'neath  snow  in  pine  woods, 
Along  the  blue  Atlantic's  shore, 

On  Arbutus'  trailing  green  vines, 
The  rose-tinted  sweet  snow-flower. 


So  fair  Sierra's  flower,  Sarcodes, 

Blooms  beneath  deep  banks  of  snow; 

Grows  and  forms  in  perfect  blossom. 
When  no  tints  of  crimson  show. 


22.  WILD    FLOWERS. 


But  a  brilliant  crimson-red  glow, — 

When  June  with  flowers  and  song  is  gay. 

Crowns  this  blossom  of  rare  beauty. 
As  sunset  clouds  June's  eve  of  da}*. 

Crimson  color,  that  comes  only, 

When  summer's  sun  shines  warm  in  day. 
Climbing  highest  in  the  blue  heaven, 

Melts  from  around  it,  snow  away. 

Then  the  sun  paints  in  deep  blushes, 
While  it  is  fanned  by  summer's  breeze, 

Crimson  touches  that  glow  brightly, 
Amid  the  snow  and  greening  trees. 


WILD    FLOWERS. 


Its  pellucid  stem  then  colors. 

Crimsons  alike  its  bells  and  leaves. 

That  like  tongues  of  flame  shoot  round  it 
As  o'er  the  white  the  color  weaves. 


Sequoia  trees  lift  high  above  it. 
Their  lofty  heads  in  summer  air, 

While  by  pathways  leading  to  them 
It  gleams  in  beauty,  bright  and  rare. 

Through  snowy  wastes  of  dazzling  white 
The  showy  flower  opens  conelike 

And  shines  in  its  bright  red  color 
From  its  long  hyacinthine  spike. 


24  WILD    FLOWKKS. 


In  mountain  wastes,  it  springs  smiling, 
And  thus  it  greets  the  traveller's  eye ; 

As  love  to  weary  hearts  and  lonely 

Comes  with  bright  greetings  from  the  sky 


'JACOB'S  LADDER  OF  THE  HIGH 
SIERRAS." 

'Polemoneum  Confertum"  of  Mt.  Dana  10,000  feet  above  the  sea. 
"Bright  purple  flowers  in  cluster." 

Flowers  most  aspiring  of  the  race 
Seeking  for  broad  and  higher  space, 
Beneath  the  blue  skies  arching  dome. 
They  climb  aloft  for  sheltering  home. 

Here  high  outspread  in  royal  robes. 
O'er  Yo-Semite's  tall  half  globe-. 
Where  from  deep  sky,  bright  orbs  of  night. 
Pour  over  them  their  starry  light. 


26  WILD    FLOWERS. 


They  bloom  with  beauty,  in  sunlight, 
In  clusters  on  this  lofty  height, 
Where  o'er  them  is  no  higher  grade, 
No  tree  or  shrub  to  cast  a  shade. 


Here  first  the  sun  in  morning  sprays 
On  their  high  bed  its  golden  rays, 
And  folds  them  in  a  sunny  bloom, 
And  shields  from  cheerless,  frosty  doom. 

In  quiet  lone,  they  flower  and  grow 
Where  dwells  the  pure,  eternal  snow; 
Its  ice-cold  sheets  around  them  spread, 
That  melts  beneath  in  glacial  bed. 


\VILD    FLOWERS. 


In  cool  air  ever,  pure  and  sweet, 
Sun,  moon  and  stars,  they  early  greet, 
Before  the  brilliant  splendors  glow 
On  tender  flowers,  that  lower  grow. 

And  here,  they  crown  the  crest,  so  lone, 
Of  this  high  mountain's  snow-tipt  cone. 
With  color  bright  amid  the  cold. 
Fair  as  the  flowers  in  garden-fold. 

And  mounted  they  to  this  lone  height, 
On  threads  of  mist  from  gloom  of  night? 
Or  on  the  dreary  storm-cloud's  breast. 
When  rolling  up,  from  its  gray  nest? 


WILD    FLOWERS. 


Or  on  waves  of  ethereal  air, 

When  morning  gleams  in  sunlight  fair? 

Or,  on  golden  ropes,  the  sun  sent  down 

For  dew,  climbed  they  to  the  mountain's  crown? 

To  glow,  where  sweet-flower  bloom  is  rare, 
Mid  bleak  lone  nature's  sweeter  air, 
And  please  the  tourist's  artist-eye, 
When  these  he  finds,  so  near  the  sky. 

In  starry  wonder,  here,  to  nod, 
So  near  to  heaven,  alone  with  God. 
\Vhere  over  peaks  loud  thunders  ring, 
And  glacial  waters,  leap  and  sing. 


THE  SEASONS. 


NEW    YEAR'S    DAY. 


Midwinter!   O  can  this  be? 

So  like  the  balmy  spring  ; 
Together  the  lark  and  linnet 

In  meadows  carol  and  sing. 

Their  few  and  soft  warbling  notes, 
Tender  and  sweet  and  gay, 

Through  all  the  fleeting  warm  hoim 
Of  this  bright  sunlit  day. 

While  up  the  green  hills  we  climb, 
To  gather  young  spring  flowrers  ; 

The  hills  that  lately  were  drenched 
With  surging  rain  in  showers. 


THE   SEASONS.  31 


The  white  flowers  that  mid  green  grass 
Have  opened  their  starry  eyes, 

In  tiny  green  shell-like  cups, 
Give  a  pleasing  surprise. 

Bright  little  yellow-tuft  glows 
Down  by  the  rivulet's  edge ; 

And  the  violet  meekly  grows 
Nearer  the  rocky  ledge. 

\Yith  many  a  blossom  sweet 
Of  the  flowery  month  of  May, 

That  here  and  nov-'  for  us  bloom 
This  lovely  spring-like  day. 


32  THE    SEASONS. 


But  now  the  afternoon  sun 

Shines  with  a  pale  white  glow ; 

That  faintly  suggestive  is, 
Of  winter's  cold  and  snow. 


And  time  of  the  year  he  marks 
By  the  early  hour,  that  he 

Trends  down  the  west  from  our  sight, 
O'er  the  Pacific  sea. 


Thither  to  come  from  the  land, 
Of  the  white-frost  and  snows  ; 

Where  the  cold  icy-sharp  breath 
Of  the  bleak  north  wind  blows. 


THK    SEASONS 


Where  the  hills  and  mountains  grand 

Seem  only  piles  of  snow  ; 
And  the  ponds,  rivers  and  lakes 

Are  all  ice-bound  below. 


To  the  paler,  soft  blue  sky, 
And  spring-like  balmy  air; 

Of  this  milder  western  clime, 
Oh.  how  sweet!   and  how  fair! 


A  FEBRUARY  MORNING 

IN    LOS  ANGELES    VALLEY. 


A  bleak  icy  wave,  from 

The  Sierra-peaks  bold, 
From  the  starry  frost  wreaths, 

That  crown  their  high  heads 
Of  white  glistening  snow, 

Eternal  and  cold, 
Now  sweeps  down,  and  in  through 

The  canons  deep  beds. 


Through  the  long  grassy  vales 
Green  as  in  summer, 

Where  blooms  the  white  lily, 
The  pink  and  the  rose  ; 


THE    SEASONS. 


And  the  brooks  glide  singing 
\\  ith  soft  low  murmur; 

To  where  the  citron,  lemon 
And  orange  fruit  grows. 


The  bright  flowers  are  all  wet, 

With  the  glassy  dew-drops. 
And  the  blades  of  green  grass 

Are  glinting  like  stars, 
While  linnets  and  meadow-larks 

Sing  in  the  tree-tops. 
Their  sweet  morning  songs. 

All  unmeasured  by  bars. 


36  THE    SEASONS. 


Transformed,  the  clear  dew-drops 

To  white  pearls  and  opals, 
Has  the  mountain  Frost  King 

In  this  bold  sally ; 
Hanging  the  green  grass  blades 

And  leaves  with  crystals  ; 
In  the  fair  and  beautiful 

Los  Angeles  valley. 


A  glistening,  starry, 
Fairy,  beauty  of  frost ; 

The  tinted,  feathery  white, 
( )range  groves  present ; 


THE    SEASONS.  37 


In  their  crystaline  robe 
Deep  green  and  gold  lost, 

In  this  picturesque,  quaint 
And  novel  event. 


But  the  morning's  warm  sun, 

In  its  splendor  bright, 
On  this  feathery  ice, 

Of  green,  gold  and  white  gleams 
And  the  fairy  frost-work 

Filled  with  bright  wonder  light. 
Melts  fleetly  away 

Like  all  beautiful  dreams. 


AFTER  THE  WINTER  RAINS. 


When  the  rains  of  winter  have  ceased 
Brightly  then  glow  the  sun's  warm  rays  ; 

Pure  and  sweet  the  ethereal  air, 

Soft  and  calm  are  the  spring-time  days. 

Then  sifts  a  gold  light  through  the  rich  green, 
That  wraps  its  robe  o'er  the  rolling  hill : 

Dashed  with  amber  the  mountains  lie 
And  fairv  forms  the  valleys  fill. 


With  escholtzias  dotted  and  gemmed. 

Hills  lie  shimmering  in  their  gold, 
While  a  mantle  of  violet  shades. 

Wrap  o'er  others  in  tender  fold. 


THE    SEASONS.  39 


The  lar-kspurs,  lowly,  and  tiny  bells 
Carpet  the  valleys  with  their  blue, 

And  fairest  flowers  on  hillsides  nod, 

Bright  and  sparkling  with  drops  of  dew. 

The  star-grass  purple  and  lupine  blooms 
Mingle  with  ferns  in  sunny  nooks, — 

Where  many  a  flower  of  golden  hue 

Has  strayed  away  from  meadow  brooks. 

And  glows  all  nature  clear,  pure  and  bright, 
Sky  revealing  a  cloudless  blue, 

The  buds  unfolding  on  lofty  trees, 
Rainbows  arching  in  drops  of  dew. 


40  THE    SEASONS. 


Larks  are  singing  in  every  field, 

Thrilling  with  music  the  morn's  repose  ; 

Sweetly  warbling  when  the  golden  sun 
First  on  the  high  green  hill-top  glows. 

Robin-Redbreast  away  in  the  woods, 

Wakes  the  echoes  upon  the  hill ; 
Thrushes  and  linnets  then  flock  in  crowds 

All  the  by-ways  and  lanes  to  fill. 

Sparrows  in  grey  beneath  tufts  of  grass, 

Tenderly  sing  their  little  notes, 
Blue-birds  and  black-birds  sing  their  soft  tunes, 

From  vale  to  hill  the  music  floats. 


THE   SEASONS.  41 


When  twice  the  new  moon's  circle  lays, 
Low  in  the  western  evening  sky; 

Throughout  the  valleys  and  on  the  hills, 
Both  grass  and  flowers  are  sere  and  dry 

Burning  with  heat  is  the  waste  of  sand, 
Parched  and  dry  is  the  garden  soil. 

And  brick-like  lie  the  adobe  hills, — 
Man  and  beast  in  weariness  toil, 


Fields  stretch  away  through  the  valleys  wide, 
Yellow  as  gold  with  ripened  grain  ; 

Touching  the  hills  of  a  russet  brown, 
Lining  the  pathway  through  the  plain. 


42  THE    SEASONS. 


Warm  shines  the  sun  through  lengthening  days, 
Soft  blows  the  breeze  from  the  western  sea, 

Hazy  vapor  on  wings  of  the  air, 
Floats  far  o'er  the  shadowy  lea, 


Veils  the  brown  hills  in  a  gauzy  blue, 
Softens  tints  of  russet  and  dun, 

Hides  the  rough  outline  of  rugged  hills. 
Tempers  rays  of  the  evening  sun. 


The  valleys,  stretching  far  from  the  shore, 
Through  long  still  noons,  in  sunshine  glow 

Dreamily  glimmers  the  heated  air ; — 
Sounds  of  Nature  are  hushed  and  low. 


THE    SEASONS.  43 


Till  heavy  laden,  vapory  clouds. 

Breaking,  display  a  gold-tipped  rift. 

Then  the  winds  roll  back  the  mist,  to  spread 
Above  the  hills  a  snowv  drift. 


And  sun-rays  paint  with  a  ruby  hue, 
The  foamy  drifts  of  vapory  snow  ; 

And  the  eastern  sky,  and  hills,  and  bay, 
In  purpling  red  and  crimson  glow. 

Drifting  the  sand  dunes,  here  and  there, 
As  winds  drift  snow  in  a  colder  clime 

Sifting  dust  through  crevice  and  crack, 
But  sifting  no  snow  in  winter  time. 


44  THE    SEASONS. 


Steadily  blowing,  bracing  and  cold, 
Through  all  the  waning  hours  of  day ; 

And  hushing  to  sleep,  when  stars  come  out, 
Like  weary  children  tired  of  play. 

Cool,  as  the  cool  breath  of  Boreas, 
But  strongest  in  midsummer  time  ; 

Coming  in  with  the  summer  months, 

And  going  out  with  the  summer's  rhyme. 


TRADE    WINDS. 

Blow,  summer  wind,  o'er  the  sea,  blow  ! 
Your  west  breezes,  blow  loud 
In  storm  of  vapor-cloud, 
In  light  and  airy  shroud  ; 

Blow  the  mist  up  white,  like  the  snow. 

Blow  your  storm-breath  high  in  the  swell ! 
Blow  it  pure,  sweet  and  cool. 
In  the  soft  wavy  roll, 
In  the  feathery-light  scroll ; 

Blow  it  up  from  the  sea's  deep  well. 


46  THE    SEASONS. 

Blow,  foam-crested  waves  to  the  shore, 
Against  rocks  high  to  dash, 
With  a  break  and  a  crash  ; 
With  a  roar  and  a  rush, 

Shoot  high  in  the  spray-fronded  spire. 


Blow  it  in  o'er  dunes  of  the  sand; 
Blow  it,  deep  space  to  fill ; 
Blow  white  foam  o'er  the  rill, 
Fringe  it  round  the  high  hill, 

Lay  it  gray  in  the  valleys  of  land. 


THE   SEASONS.  47 


Pile  mist  robes  above  the  green  sea, 
And  light  on  the  spray  sift ; 
Blow  clouds  of  snowy  drift, 
.Like  sun-rays  through  the  rift, 
To  star  with  gold  the  grey  o'er  the  lea. 


At  rest,  with  your  angry  breath  spent. 
Arch  in  spray  the  rainbow, 
On  the  hills  of  mist  snow ; 
Let  a  bright  color  glow 

Of  sapphire  with  gold  and  green  blent. 


48  THE    SEASONS. 

And  along  the  sky,  burnished  lines  lay 
Soon  to  melt  in  the  grey, 
So  to  sleep  hours  away; 
To  renew  the  fairy  play, 

When  noon  sun  shines  in  the  new  day. 


Blow  cool  your  breath,  wind  of  summer, 
And  thick  in,  from  the  sea, 
White  as  flowers  in  the  lea, 
Blow  it  swift,  blow  it  free, 

With  the  day  to  die  in  low  murmur. 


THK   SKASOXs.  49 

Blow  to  the  sound  of  the  sea-waves'  roar, 

In  their  loud  breaking  peals. 

To  th£  call  of  grey  gulls, 

And  bellow  of  the  seals, 
Heard  afar,  on  the  long  sandy  shore. 


Blow  in  a  boon  rich,  fresh  and  free, 
In  bold  rush,  with  no  stealth  ; 
Blow  to  cheer,  to  give  health  ; 
Blessings  greater  than  wealth, 

To  the  dwellers  bv  the  Sunset-Sea. 


AFTER   THE    WINDS. 

When  back  from  the  roar 

Of  the  ocean's  shore, 
The  colder  winds  creep  away  in  the  west, 

Far  over  the  free, 

Calm  violet  sea, 
Ever  obeying  fair  nature's  behest. 

Then  come  soft  fine  days, 

With  the  sun's  mild  rays 
Like  the  sowing  time,  which  comes  in  the  sprin< 

But  fields  are  not  green, 

No  green  hills  are  seen, 
And  no  ^old-robin  is  now  heard  to  sin^. 


TI1K    SKASnNS. 


Though  strong  winds  that  blew 

With  summer  days  flew; 
Vet  the  cool,  sweet  breath,  from  off  the  green  sea. 

Spreads  over  the  land 

Like  magic's  fleet  wand 
That  transforms  the  earth  with  its  mystery. 

The  few  gentle  showers 

Refresh  the  wild  flowers 
That  bloom  througout  the  long  year  and  that  brin^ 

Up  grasses  again, 

O'er  hill  and  o'er  plain, 
And  wake  the  autumn  to  semblance  of  spring. 


52  THE    SEASONS. 


Yet  no  song  is  heard 

Or  chirp  of  a  bird 
Of  the  many  that  sing  when  springtime  comes; 

Nor  any  sweet  tune 

From  the  birds  of  June  ; 
No  song  of  the  lark  with  the  autumn  suns. 

Now  garnered  are  sheaves, 

And  the  falllen  leaves 
Lie  brown  and  scattered,  down  under  the  trees  ; 

Earth  in  pensive  hush 

With  no  brooks  to  rush, 
And  quiet  as  soft  as  hum  of  the  bees. 


THE    SEASONS. 


53 


The  hills  and  the  dales 

And  water  it  veils. 
In  the  fairest  phase,  of  a  changing  haze. 

In  the  softest  shades 

Of  gossamer  grades. 
And  dreamy  and  fair  soft  beauty  displays. 


The  sunshine  shimmers, 

And  softly  glimmers 
( )ver  all  the  land  in  opaline  rays ; 

With  the  sapphire  glow 

The  cloud-pillars  show 
When  the  sun  goes  down  in  these  quiet  days. 


54  THE    SEASONS. 

Can  all  the  graces 

Of  the  world's  places 
Vie  with  this  sweet  charm  in  the  things  around? 

With  nature  so  fair, 

The  earth  and  the  air, 
In  the  softened  lights  that  all  things  surround. 

This  long,  tender  calm, 

Comes  like  a  sweet  balm, 
After  winds  are  gone  that  blew  in  the  west; 

And  a  glad  release 

Is  this  grace  of  peace 
In  this  charm  of  beauty  and  quiet  rest. 


SEPTEMBER. 


A  cooling  breath  from  the  foam-white  sea, 
Throbs  in  playfulness,  gentle  and  free. 
Through  the  sweet  peace  of  nature,  and  thrills 
In  soft  white  light  o'er  the  misty  hills. 

From  trees,  that  bend  o'er  the  stream's  deep  bed, 
And  their  shadows  on  the  low  water  shed, 
And  a  sweet  spicy  fragrance  it  brings 
Of  green  bay  leaves,  on  its  viewless  \vings. 

Glides  through  the  vale  with  the  tress  long  line. 
And  below  the  brown  hills  they  entwine. 
Where  timid  quails  hide,  and  squirrels  play, 
And  the  mock-bird  sings  his  sweet-voiced  lay. 


56  THE    SEASONS. 


Through  the  town's  rolling,  long  sunlit  street, 
As  swift  moving  life  in  by-ways  meet, 
So  it  sweeps  away  the  misty  gray 
And  plays  with  tangles  of  silvered  ray. 

The  winds  creep  back  from  the  sandy  shore, — 
Their  loud  breathing  sound  is  heard  no  more. 
O'er  the  low  hills  or  the  dimpled  lea, 
Naught  but  murmur  of  the  restless  sea. 

Welcome,  welcome  ye  calm  mellow  days, 
Soothing  as  sunset's  peace  bringing  rays, 
That  follow  the  swift-rolling  storms  of  air, 
As  the  silence  that  follows  a  prayer. 


OCTOBER. 


October  days 

With  purpling  maze 
Of  Indian  summer's  softest  haze, 

And  beauty's  claiir, 

Of  quiet  reign 
O'er  dew-veiled  hill  and  mist}'  plain. 


The  irised  bow 

Of  sun  hangs  low, 
And  down  the  west,  a  gold-red  glow 

Lies  on  the  sea 

Like  "Peace  to  thee" 
From  Him  who  walked  The  Galilee. 


58  THE    SEASONS. 


As  full  tides  teem 
Life's  mottled  stream 

Goes  down  the  street,  as  in  a  dream, 

Nor  wait,  nor  stay, 
Like  shadows  they 

Pass,  one  by  one,  in  mist  away. 

I  muse  and  think 

How  life-paths  link:  — 
We  mingle  here,  then  pass  the  brink 

To  endless  life  ; 

While  earth  is  rife 
With  weary  toil  and  busy  strife. 


THE    SEASONS. 


59 


The  mist}'  veil 
Shuts  in  the  sail 

That  waits  for  us  ;    nor  do  we  hail 
Till  we  pass  through 
Beyond  the  view 

Of  all  our  earthlv  loved  and  true. 


And  sweetly  blest, 

May  we  to  rest 
Go,  leaning  on  our  dear  Lord's  breast, 

Till  we,  above. 

Rest,  like  a  dove 
Forever  joyful  in  his  love. 


NOVEMBER    IN    CALIFORNIA 


The  cool  south  wind  brings  again, 
Signs  of  quickly  coming  rain  : 

We  welcome  the  hour, 
When  we  hear  the  winds  low  sigh, 
And  from  dark  clouds  moving  by, 

Out,  pours  the  shower. 

Over  hill  and  vale  is  seen 
Springing  grasses,  tender  green, 

And  so  fresh  with  dew ; 
Now,  the  white  and  fleecy  clouds, 
Some  alone,  and  some  in  crowds 

Of  fairies  in  the  blue, 


THE    SEASONS. 


6l 


Sunny  days,  and  sometimes  showers, 
Bring  again  the  summer  flowers  ; 

With  the  roses  bright, 
Escholtzias  in  sheltered  nooks, 
Forget-me-nots  near  the  brooks, 

Blue  bells  cheer  our  sight. 


On  highest  heights,  snow  has  come  ; 
We  know  by  the  paling  sun, 

That  is  coldly  white  ; 
While  green  vales,  so  weird  they  look. 
Like  spring  with  the  winter  shook 

And  a  shade  of  night. 


62  THE    SEASONS. 


We  leave  fog  and  dusty  days, 
Grey  mists,  that  on  mountain  lays  ; 

And  with  motion  fleet, 
To  this,  the  first  month  of  showers, 
And  new  life,  brought  with  its  hours, 

We  hasten  to  greet. 


THE    DECEMBER    RAIN 


Now  comes  the  dense  rain  !    rain  !    rain  ! 
Up  over  the  hill,  down  over  the  plain 
It  streams,  now  a  lull,  then  it  streams  again 
In  dark  threads  of  rain  !    rain  !    rain  ! 
From  the  grey  cloud-fleets, 
In  shrouds  and  in  sheets, 
Till  the  day  is  filled  with  the  raining  beats, 
And  dull  with  sounds  of  the  rain. 


But  steadily  falls  the  rain  ; 
More  slowly  it  comes,  now  faster  again, 
Over  the  city,  and  over  the  plain, 

Fall  the  showers  of  rain  !   rain  !   rain  ! 


64  THE    SEASONS. 


Falls  in  wide-spread  sheet, 
Like  the  blinding  sleet, 

And  gullies  the  hills  and  the  mountains  steep, 
With  swift  brooks  formed  by  the  rain. 

Fast  and  yet  faster  it  pours, 
The  driving  rain,  and  naught  else  before  us 
But  tangled  streams  and  loud  wind  in  chorus, 
That  with  the  fast  rain-beat  scores  ; 
With  a  plash  and  dash, 
And  with  a  loud  rush, 

When  break  the  waters  their  bounds  with  a  crash- 
Then  free,  it  tumbles  and  roars. 


THE    SEASONS.  65 


Xo\v  it  floods  the  islands  and  plains, — 
\\ith  the  heavy  force  of  her  gloomy  strains. 
Let  music  its  deep  and  doleful  peans 
Sing  sadly  her  dull  refrains;  — 
Water  swells  and  flows. 
And  noisily  rolls, 

Down  deserted  streets,  in  foamy  white  scroll: 
High  over  sluices  and  drains. 

Still  it  falls,  the  rain  !    rain  !    rain  ! 
O  the  streaming,  dripping  and  tiring  rain  ! 
Will  never  it  cease  its  raining  again? 

To  hope  and  hope,  is  it  vain? — 

9  


66  THE    SEASONS. 


Lo  !  the  sun  shines  bright. 
Sky  blue,  the  clouds  white. 
And  waters  sing  lullaby's  in  the  light 
With  glad  and  joyous  refrain. 

Now  to  the  wonderful  sun  ; 
For  rapid  bright  change  and  victory  won, 
The  earth  and  the  sky  now  rejoice  as  one 
For  rays  of  the  golden  sun, 
That  with  softer  glow, 
Than  sunbeams  on  snow, 
Wakes  all  to  new  life,  above  and  below — 

\Vhen  this  "beautiful  rain"  is  over  and  done. 


ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


SHELL    BEACH. 

SANTA    CRUZ,    CALIFORNIA. 

There's  a  rocky  beach  by  shelving  cliffs, 
Where  the  waters  beat  in  shining  drifts, 
Hut  only  when  they  are  at  ebb  and  low 
Can  footsteps  over  the  grey  rocks  go. 

There  many  a  molusk  clinging  dwells, 
And  the  liriipets  line  the  rock-carved  wells  ; 
And  star-fish  and  flecked  cypria  grow, 
In  all  their  yellow  and  crimson  glow. 

Sea-gulls  fly  over  in  grey-white  flocks, 
Where  abalones  cling  to  the  rocks  : 
And  here  and  there,  a  pearl-oyster  is  found, 
Where  radiant  sunbeams  fall  around. 


i  >.\  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


69 


The  casa-rufra  here  glows  in  his  house  ; 
And  ruffled  murex  as  a  grey  mouse. 
Hangs  clinging  beneath  the  lip  of  a  rock — 
Bright  waves  dash  o'er  them,  with  no  harsh  shock 

Beautiful  spirals  in  slender  form 
And  the  cone-shaped,  cling  in  places  warm, 
With  grey  sea-urchins  in  spiny  robe — 
Xor  fear  a  fall  from  their  rocky  globe. 


The  univalve  conch,  with  many  whorls, 
Cling  safe,  from  all  the  rapacious  merles : 
Turbinates  varied  in  form  and  size, 
That  delight  and  please  the  searchers'  eyes. 


/O  ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


Varied  the  forms  of  beautiful  shells ; — 
And  molusk  within  on  grey  rock  dwells 
But  no  flowery  moss  or  kelp  wave  near, 
For  only  shells  on  these  rocks  appear. 


KELP    BEACH. 

SANTA    CRUZ,    CALIFORNIA. 

Over  a  fair  little  sandy  beach, 
That  bounds  the  high-tide's  watery  reach 
Float  in  ripples  of  crimson  and  white, 
The  moss-like  kelp  to  glow  in  the  light. 

It  sprinkles  the  bright  and  shining  sand, 
Like  roses  scattered  in  garden-land, 
With  colors  as  bright  as  line  the  shells 
Where  the  wonderful  little  molusk  dwells. 


And  bright  as  flowers  in  a  sunny  bed, 
Dashed  with  the  fragrance  the  salt  waves  shed, 
But  one  kind  only,  as  from  like  seed, 
With,  now  and  then,  sprays  of  green  sea-weed 


ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


Here  the  rosy-red  and  ivory  white 
Gleam  in  the  sunshine  with  golden  light; 
Fresh  from  their  bath  in  the  briny  waves, 
They  glow  as  roses  when  June  shower  laves. 


Thus,  brilliant  kelp  from  the  ocean  caves, 
Tossed  on  the  beach  by  silvery  waves  ; 
Like  gleaming  light  in  shimmering  vein, 
Plays  through  the  waves  that  roll  back  again. 

With  the  spring-time  tides  in  ebb  and  flow, 
Kver  in  beaut}'  they  come  and  go, 
Ever,  as  the  months  and  years  roll  round, 
With  unchanging  sway  in  their  narrow  bound. 


PESCADERO. 


On  the  long  reach  of  the  ocean  shore, 
Is  this  pebbly  beach,  where  wild  waves  roar, 
For  here,  there  is  formed  a  pebbly  lea, 
By  sweep  of  the  tide  from  open  sea. 

It  washes  them  in  as  the  seasons  pass, 
And  levels  them  down  in  deepening  mass, 
Small  and  varied  in  form  and  hue, 
From  sea-bath  brighter  than  meads  in  dew. 


Varied  in  tint  as  are  precious  stones, 
Veined  like  the  agate  in  rounded  zones, 
Mottled  as  the  murre's  eggs'  speckled  shells, 
That  freckle  the  cliff,  where  the  sea-bird  dwells. 


10 


74  <>N  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


Like  the  eggs  albumen  watery  white, 
Semi-transparent  in  strong  sun-light, 
Or  as  dewy  opals  with  sapphire  pent 
Within  their  white  film  and  lightly  blent. 

(jay  beach  sparkling  as  with  rare  rich  stones, 
When  sea  and  rain  has  washed  o'er  their  zones, 
Though  browns  are  many  and  reds  are  few, 
Kmeralcl  sparkles  with  topaz  and  blue. 

Purple  and  hyacinth  glow  in  the  maze, 
Where  the  pale  amethyst  gleam  its  rays  ; 
A  kingdom  of  beauty  from  ocean  won, 
To  glitter  its  wealth  in  the  beaming  sun. 


OX  TI1K  SEA  SHORE. 


75 


From  whence  and  why  in  marshalling  troop 
Are  swept  in  here  this  varied  group. — 
As  ever  the  circling  years  move  round, — 
Where  mosses  and  shells  are  rarelv  found. 


Nature  has  ever  a  way  and  plan, 
As  is  e'er  revealed  to  the  mind  of  man  ; 
Its  deeper  mystery  to  him  will  shine 
With  knowledge  greater  from  the  Divine. 


MOSS    BEACH. 

SOQUEL — NEAR    SANTA    CRUZ,    CALIFORNIA. 

A  narrow,  smooth  and  long  sandy  beach, 
That  ends  with  high  walling  cliffs  ; 

Rocky  cliffs,  that  jut  into  the  sea, 
Where  waves  roll  in  foaming  drifts. 

A  mountain  brook  flows  down  by  the  cliffs, 

Warbling  in  silvery  line, 
To  mingle  with  waves  of  ocean  grey, 

And  sparkle  with  salt  sea-brine. 

Back  from  the  shore  in  a  rocky  bed, 
Flows  down  through  a  narrow  wold, 

Singing  its  song  to  the  ferns  and  trees 
Where  the  sunshine  glints  its  gold. 


ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


77 


Down  through  a  green-wooded  mossy  dell, 

And  under  the  leafy  trees, 
That  wave  tall  branches  in  wind  and  storm, 

And  in  gentle  salt  sea-breeze. 

While  over  the  sand  the  bright-flecked  waves, 
Fling  around  in  crimson  showers, 

Beautiful  mosses  of  rosy  hue, 
To  glow  as  a  field  of  flowers. 


Beautiful  mosses,  crimson  and  white, 
Some  with  a  bright  scarlet  glow  ; 

The  fairest  pink  in  a  lap  of  white, 
That  rivals  the  riven  snow. 


78  ON  THE  SEA  SHORE 


Delicate  mosses  with  slender  threads, 

And  fine  as  a  spicjer  weaves  ; 
The  slender  branches  spread  neath  the  waves, 

Tremble  with  gossamer  leaves. 

From  whence  come  these  in  body  and  group, 
From  grotto's  where  mermaids  dwell  ? 

Did  they  fling  them  out  from  flowery  caves, 
To  glow  with  the  waters  swell? 

Hither  to  come  in  fairy-like  grace  ; 

And  sprinkle  this  green-sea  strand, 
With  brilliant  colors  and  beautiful  forms 

To  gleam  amid  golden  sand? 


ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


And  where  the  -brook  comes  into  the  sea 
With  twigs  to  lodge  in  rock-lair. 

The  mosses  cling  and  dangle  and  wave, 
Like  the  mermaid's  flossv  hair. 


Beautiful  moss  that  floats  in  with  the  waves. 
To  brighten  the  sea-washed  sand, 

While  over  the  cliffs  the  spring  flowers  bloom. 
Bright  flowers,  that  grow  from  the  land. 


THE    SEA-ANEMONES 

SANTA    CRUZ,    CALIFORNIA. 

Beneath  the  tall  and  rugged  cliffs, 
That  wall  this  wild  ocean  shore, 

Are  flat  rocks,  where  anemones 
Dwell  amid  the  waves  loud  roar. 


In  mossy-lined,  rounded  hollows, 
That  lie  like  bowls  in  the  rocks ; 

Where  sweep  the  high  tides,  in  and  out, 
Amid  the  grey  granite  blocks. 

In  bright  purple  beauty  spreading, 
Kissed  by  the  incoming  tide  ; 

Or  in  flowery  glow  they  sparkle, 
As  amid  the  moss  they  hide. 


(>X  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


81 


Here  the  wild  sea's  flowers  are  blooming 
In  crimson  and  golden  glow, 

Or  as  white,  as  when  the  moonbeams 
Make  sea-foam  like  drifting  snow. 

And  at  outward  touch  the  lightest, 
They  fold  the  fringe  of  their  bloom, 

As  folds  at  touch  the  mimosa's 
Sensitive  leaf  in  green  gloom. 


Thus  on  grey  rocks  in  their  beauty, 
In  a  quaint  and  lovely  bed. 

Or  clinging  to  craggy  ledges — 
In  radiant  bloom  they  are  spread. 


ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


And  if  by  force  they  are  wrested, 
From  their  wild  and  rocky  bed, 

They  beam  a  flower-bloom  no  longer, 
Hut  lie  as  a  ball  of  lead. 


So  with  larger  things  in  nature, 
They  have  a  place  and  a  sphere, 

Where  e'er  unchanged,  they  must  remain, 
In  beauty  and  grace  to  appear. 


THE    SINGING    SAND. 


Where  cliffs  are  massed  in  sombre  dark  gray 
And  dreary  sand-dunes  spread  far  away. — 
Desolate  and  quaint  by  the  western  sea, — 
Where  wild  waves  moan  of  now  and  to  be. 


Strange  as  novel  is  a  singing  beach, 
Along  this  lone  wild  of  the  ocean  reach. 
And  sounds  come  up,  as  from  Undine's  band, 
When  footsteps  wend  o'er  the  creamy  sand. 

Musical  sounds  and  pleasing  as  strange, 
And  newly  known  on  this  long  Coast  Range, 
Varied  with  force  of  disturbing  shock, 
Prolonged  with  the  motion  of  cradle-rock. 

o 


84  ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


The  whispering  leaves  and  moaning  pines, 
The  sighing  breezes  and  wailing  winds, 
Loud  babbling  brooks  and  soft  rippling  rills, 
The  grand  old  mountains  and  rock-veined  hi! 

Long  have  the  poets  their  praises  sung — 
In  strains  familiar  through  ages  have  rung; 
But  it  is  left  to  this  age  more  grand. 
To  add  the  praise  of  the  singing  sand. 


THE    CLIFFS. 

SUTRO'S    HEIGHTS. 

Lifting  high  anear  the  sandy  shore, 
Where  long  waves  dash  and  the  breakers  roar, 
Where  sea-lions  play  in  the  bright  spring  sun, 
And  wild  waves  roar,  while  its  course  is  run. 


Here  dark  cliffs  rise  in  huge  massive  blocks, 
Thrown  up  by  the  force  of  earthquake  shocks, 
Amid  sand  dunes,  unmoved  by  wild  storms, 
They  stand  in  beauty  veiled  in  rock  forms. 

Massive  and  grand,  their  forms  uplift  high, 
As  Sequoia  trees  toward  the  blue  sky, 
Crowned  with  flowering  shrubs  and  sylvan  shades, 
With  graceful  forms  over  walls  and  grades. 


86  ON  THE  SEA  SHORE 


And  many  are  the  flowers  and  works  of  art, 
In  graceful  groups,  or  scattered  apart, 
Beneath,  and  in  shade  of  fragrant  pines, 
Or  by  shelving  rocks  in  bold  outlines, 

On  these  swelling  cliffs,  that  slope,  far  back, 
In  rolling  ground  waves  to  the  open  park, 
Or,  on  the  steep  cliffs,  that  in  grandeur  stand, 
Great  with  storied  gift  from  storied  land. 


SAN    LORENZO    BAY. 

SANTA    CRUZ. 

The  sail-boats,  white-winged,  glide  over  the  bay 
As  pale  moonbeams  on  the  glassy  waves  stray  : 
The  land  slopes  down  to  the  water's  edge, 
And  around  far  hills  the  green  pines  hedge. 

Over  the  bluff  is  the  surging  sea 
Swelling  the  song  of  now  and  to  be ; 
Over  the  bluff  is  the  long  white  shore, 
And  sea-mosses  flower  its  sandy  floor. 

Ships  sail  to  the  north,  ships  sail  to  the  south, 
To  many  a  harbor  and  river's  mouth  ; 
Sail  down  the  \vest  to  a  sunny  noon 
Of  Islands  rich  in  a  tropical  bloom. 


88  ON  THE  SEA  SHORE. 


Sail  away  to  the  chorus  of  wailing  winds, 
That  to  the  shore  the  white  sea-fog  wings, 
While  it  tosses  and  whirls  the  foam-white  spray, 
As  winds  and  waters  in  concert  play. 

O  moon-bright  waves,  of  the  land-hemmed  bay, 
That  press  in  from  the  sea  in  peace  to  lay:  — 
Here,  from  the  city's  dull,  wearying  hum, 
From  its  sea  of  storm-life  to  rest,  I  come. 

To  rest  in  the  grace  of  thy  morn  and  noon, 
Where  sails  lift  white  in  light  of  the  moon, 
Here,  on  the  shore  of  this  restless  sea, 
That  ever  some  lesson  repeats  to  me. 


MISCELLANEOUS 


12 


YO  SEMITE    VALLEY. 


When  above  the  long  pine-covered  slopes, 
Of  Nevada's  green  mountain  heights, 

Midway  to  lone  peaks  of  Sierra, 

Where  alone  makes  the  eagle  her  flights. 

And  still,  as  at  dawn  of  creation, 

Lie  cold  these  lone  heads  in  the  snow 

That  golden  in  the  sunlight  of  morning 
And  silver  in  the  moon's  paler  glow. 

Here  a  broad  annd  smooth  level  spreads  out, 
Now  is  green  with  grasses  and  vines, 

And  mottled  with  the  lily's  white  flower, 
Half-encircled  with  narrow  leafed  pines. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


From  walled  sides  of  a  nearing  abyss, 
Domes  and  peaks  lift  up  as  in  row, 

And  the  massed  rock  and  column  goes  down. 
To  the  bed  of  the  valley  below. 

\Ve  follow  down  a  steep  winding  trail, 
To  reach  the  deep  laid  valley  bed. 

In  a  broad  space  between  rocky  hills. 

With  low  bushes  and  wild  grass  inspread. 


Here  strange  wonders  in  mighty  rock  form, 
And  airy  grace,  burst  on  the  sight, 

Waters  fall  in  a  veil  of  white  mist, 

O'er  the  rock-wall  that  climbs  to  vast  height. 


92  MISCELLANEOUS. 


"El-Capitan,"  great  guard  of  the  vale, 

Climbs  above  its  towering  rim, 
A  titanic  creamy-white  column  : 

And  round  his  head  the  summer-birds  skim. 

The  Merced  runs  through  the  long  valley, 
From  the  falls  where  it  whirls  and  rushes, 

And  through  the  long  green  sunny  meadows, 
Fringed  by  tall  trees  and  the  bushes. 

And  sings  through  the  wild  unmown  meadows 
Where  prostrate  lie  trunks  of  large  pines, 

Brown,  dappled  with  golden  fringed  mosses, 
As  the  meadows  with  shrubs  and  vines. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  93 


High  are  sharp  peaks  that  lean  as  to  leap, 
With  the  "Cathedral's"  towering  spires, 

Where  the  snow  drops  away  in  rain  tears, 
Melted  by  the  sun's  morning  fires. 

And  the  "Brothers,"  the  clustering  "three," 

By  each  other  lovingly  stand, 
Towering  in  such  grandeur  and  pride, 

As  holding  all  power  in  their  hand. 

"Bridal-veil,"  wind-blown  from  the  portal, 

Floats  out,  yet  cannot  bridge  the  wide  space. 

To  wave  round  and  enfold  the  monarch, 
And  soften  his  sides  with  its  grace. 


94  MISCELLANEOUS. 


With  a  beauty  more  clinging  it  charms. 

Drops  its  thread  of  diamonds  and  pearls 
To  gleam  in  the  light  feathery  spray, 

With  rainbows  in  the  glittering  whirls. 

Here  the  vale  opens  like  the  deep  basin 

Of  a  long  ago  inland  sea, 
Where  the  waters  for  ages  had  fled 

And  the  bed  left  a  green  grassy  lea. 

And  its  great  wonders  crowd  on  the  view, 

Before  and  on  every  side, 
By  the  mist  veil  of  showering  pearls 

Or  in,  where  the  meadows  are  wide. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  95 


Crowned  with  domes,  the  mighty  rock  titans 

In  splendor  lift  up  to  the  day, 
And  the  massive  long  granite  columns, 

Their  shadows  in  the  still  water  lay. 

And  in  thunders,  like  break  of  sea-waves, 
The  waters  pour  down  the  high  wall, 

In  rivers  of  white  crystals  and  pearls, 
The  Vo-Semite's  long  waterfall. 

These  monarchs  of  the  valley's  walled  sides, 
Shoot  above  in  straight  and  smooth  block. 

Their  tops  in  point,  or  capped  in  round  dome, 
Solid  shafts  of  grey  granite  rock. 


96  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  these  mighty  titanic  monarchs, 
Our  wonder-gaze  claim  and  fasten  ; 

And  their  grandeur  of  size  so  sublime, 
Commands  awe,  which  never  can  lessen, 

This  valley  of  quaint  wonder  and  charm, 
Of  green  meadows  and  fields  of  grain, 

Crystal-clear  the  river  glides  through  it, 
Singing  ever  a  musical  strain. 

Trees  symmetrical  throw  their  outline 
High  against  the  smooth  granite  wall. 

Or  in  grace  lean  over  the  river, 

On  the  waters  let  leaf  shadows  fall. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


97 


And  there  glows  a  deep  mirror-like  lake. 
Beside  the  green  grassy  meadows, 

Where  the  titanic  forms  of  massed  rock 
Lay  down  their  clear  immense  shadows. 

Above,  the  sky  rounds  its  deep  hollow  dome 
Sprinkled  with  gold  stars  of  the  night. 

In  its  blue  float  white  clouds  of  the  day. 
And  sunbeams  that  dazzle  our  sight. 


From  fast  melting  snow  pours  the  water. 
O'er  the  wall  in  foam-white  river, 

And  in  threads,  like  silvery  arrows. 
Speeding  from  a  well-filled  quiver. 


9cS  MISCELLANEOUS. 


In  the  silvery  long  waterfall, 

That  thunders  on  the  air  its  loud  roar, 
When  on  rocks  that  project  it  dashes, 

Or  on  debris  that  lines  the  low  floor. 

Wonderful  in  its  august  splendor, 
Its  power  and  greatness  of  line, 

Flashing  gleams,  as  from  pure  white  crystals 
With  rainbows  in  the  spray  and  sunshine. 

When  viewed  from  the  "Point  Inspiration," 
These  wonders  so  greatly  sublime, 

That  have  grown  up  through  the  long  ages, 
From  the  earliest  periods  of  time. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


99 


Then  with  awe  sublime,  they  inspire  us, 
These  crowned  heads  so  high  to  our  sight, 

As  mountain  chiefs,  white  gods  of  the  day. 
But  are  as  grim  dark  titans  by  night. 

Awe  with  reverence  greater  to  Him, 
Who  fashioned  these  wonderful  things  ; 

With  the  mar\  els  of  beauty  and  greatness. 
And  the  glories  to  natute  He  brings. 


The  tall  trees  that  grow  up  from  their  base. 
Are  as  shrubs  that  fringe  round  their  feet. 

When  in  hollows  below  their  high  heads 
The  green  pines  are  with  beauty  replete. 


TOO  MISCELLANEOUS. 


To  see  daily  or  live  in  their  shade, 
Strange  and  unfamiliar  would  be, 

As  the  crash,  the  thunder  and  the  roar 
Of  storm  waves,  that  break  over  the  sea. 


And  more  wierd  when  the  daylight  is  gone, 
When  dark  shadows  lie  still  and  deep, 

As  if  nature  had  shut  her  eyelids 

In  her  last,  and  long  dreamless  sleep. 

When  the  pale  moon  comes  up  in  the  night, 
And  flames  her  white  light  o'er  these  head; 

Then  the  shadows  sink  deeper  away, 
In  lone  nooks  of  the  lone  valley  bed. 


MISCELLANEOUS  IOI 


Or  when  she  in  all  her  white  glory, 
Looks  over  each  towering  height, 

Renewing  this  wild  of  rare  wonders, 
\Yith  her  silvery  transforming  light, 

Then  the  lone  deep  is  changed,  as  by  magic, 
To  a  vale  of  fairies  and  gnomes, 

Where  in  the  shrubs,  trees  and  the  grasses. 
They  may  still  have  their  fanciful  homes. 

We  wind  in  among  trees  and  bushes 

Of  trail,  to  a  deep  shady  dell, 
And  hear  the  rush  and  roar  of  the  river, 

Hurrying  through  its  sea-deep  well. 


102  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  we  look  down  to  see  from  the  height, 
Of  the  trail  near  "Ah-wi-yah's"  white  fall. 

The  rock  titans  bending  around  it 
In  the  protecting  cup-like  wall. 

Climbing  the  gamboling  fall  to  see, 

Before  us  looms  "Liberty  Cap," 
In  a  deeper  dark  shade  of  the  grey, 

Than  titans  in  the  valley's  deep  lap. 

Here  "Ah-wi-yah's"  swift  waters  flash  forms, 
Like  troops  of  white  angels,  with  crown 

On  heads,  thrown  ball-like,  floating  thin  robes, 
As  of  foamy  feathery  down. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  103 


And  beyond  in  the  grey  misty  clouds 
Of  the  thin  and  vapory  spray, 

Rainbows  flit  in,  and  the  sunbeams  flash, 
Like  millions  of  fairies  in  play. 

And  below  where  the  rocky  trail  ends. 
Where  "Liberty  Cap"  throws  a  shade 

By  the  side  of  a  mossy  lined  grotto 
And  green  trees  as  in  forest  glade. 

Xeath  the  leafy  shade  flows  the  water, 
Of  the  grassy-green  "Vernal  Fall," 

Flashing  and  leaping  to  the  valley  bed 
By  the  trees  and  the  jagged  wall. 


IO4  MISCELLANEOUS. 


A  fairy-like  mossy-lined  grotto, 

Slow-dripping,  pearly  drops  of  dew, 

Opens  out  to  the  glassy  clear  fall, 
In  light  of  a  golden-green  hue. 

Fit  place  for  wood-nymphs  and  naiads, 
Mid  mosses  and  feathery  fern, 

But  with  music  of  the  loud  waterfall, 
For  wimpling  of  a  greenwood  burn. 

But  when  come  the  frosts  of  late  autumn 
To  star  grasses,  rocks  and  the  trees, 

Dissolving  in  the  sunbeams  of  morning 
And  glinting  like  dew  on  the  leaves. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  IO  = 


Then  deepens  the  tone  of  their  colors. 

The  yellow  to  an  orange  hue, 
More  brilliant  and  glossy  the  varied  reds, 

In  thin  haze  of  the  softest  blue. 

That  hang  in  mist  wreaths  o'er  the  meadows, 

As  it  floats  surpassingly  fair. 
And  is  pierced  by  the  lance-like  sun-rays, 

Ere  it  melts  away  into  thin  air. 

The  mist  in  coil,  lik-e  an  Almeh-wound  veil, 
Round  the  "Sentinel"  twines  and  falls. 

Hangs  here' and  there  in  thin  gauzy  fold. 
To  soften,  and  to  hide  the  dark  walls. 

14 


IO6  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Rapid  the  change  of  the  varied  colors, 

After  rains  in  these  autumn  days, 
Amber  shades  deepen,  the  red  leaves  burn, 

And  tints  flash  through  the  mist  and  the  haze. 

Vale  of  weird  enchantment  and  wonder, 
By  the  summer  suns  and  winds  thrilled, 

How  bleak,  lone  and  cold  when  with  winter, 
All  its  leaves, 'and  its  waters  are  chilled. 


WEBER    VALLEY. 


Coming  through  a  defile  in  the  mountains, 
In  bright  beauty  bursts  on  the  view, 

A  large  rounded  meadow-like  valley 

Of  green  grass,  with  gold  shining  through, 

A  strikingly  mixed  dreamy  wonder 

Like  a  paradisical  vision  ;  — 
Low  homes  nestle  deep  in  the  greenness, 

Of  fields  sweet  as  the  elvsian. 


Silver  poplars  dot  the  green  meadows 
Mingling  with  the  darker  hued  trees; 

Leaves  lightly  floating  in  the  white  air, 
And  the  faintest  of  cooling  breeze. 


108  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Wild  roses  in  deepening  pink  color 

Are  blooming  by  the  low  cottage  side  ; 

Here  the  larks  sing  in  dew  of  the  morning 
Their  sweet  songs  as  in  joyous  pride. 

And  the  Wasatch  mountains  in  grandeur, 
Snow-white  from  the  valley  arise 

In  morning  glowing  in  white  splendor, 
In  the  eve  swept  with  ruby-red  dyes. 

Climbing  blue  dome  of  the  sky  to  meet 

If  we  Ossa  on  Pelion  pile, 
These  towering  heights  would  o'er  them  bend 

And  look  down  on  them  with  a  smile. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


IO9 


With  their  heads  high  above  the  white  clouds. 
They  look  up  to  the  beautiful  stars ; 

But  far  below  the  sunset  now  paints 
Its  golden  and  crimsoning  bars. 

And  spreading  abroad  their  white  mantles 
To  cover  large  space  of  the  world, 

That  from  cloud-crowned  crests  through  all  ages, 
Snow-white  banners  might  be  unfurled. 


Mountain  peaks  stretch  away  to  the  south. 

Half-walling  the  valley  around, 
But  sloping  to  meet  the  red-green  heights 

Of  the  eastern  and  northern  bound. 


HO  MISCELLANEOUS. 


The  low  swells  of  sandstone  sharpsided, 
Are  covered  with  tender  green  o'er, 

And  metalic,  as  mountains  would  be, 
Of  iron,  or  cinabar  ore. 

And  the  contrast  is  strangely  pleasing, 
With  the  wonder  of  greenness  that  goes 

Far  up  the  sides  of  the  mountains  to  meet 
The  still  greater  wonder  of  snows. 

The  Weber  crystal  clear  glides  through  it, 
Glassing  the  alabaster-like  walls 

In  turrets  and  spires  of  cathedrals 
And  in  frozen  river-like  falls. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  I  I  I 


Now  o'er  all  shine  the  sun-rays  of  evening, 
Goldening  the  peaks  of  white  snow. 

And  goldening  the  bright  green  grasses 
In  the  valley  of  strange  charm  below  ; 

That  lies  in  the  bosom  of  mountains 

In  a  rest  as  quiet  and  deep, 
As  when  guarded  by  heaven's  white  angels, 

Rests  a  fair  young  child  in  its  sleep. 


WEBER    AND    ECHO    CANONS 


From  the  bright  green  Eden-like  valley, 
From  the  wonderful  mountains  of  snow, 

Through  a  pass  in  the  cinabar  heights, 
To  these  mountain  gorges  we  go. 

Through  these  canons  enchantingly  wild 
And  so  quaintly  novel  and  strange, 

Alternating  and  mixed  with  the  hills 
That  rise  in  a  long  broken  range. 

Or  with  hills  trending  green  with  low  shrubs 
In  a  rounded  or  knoll-like  form  ; 

Hills  sharply  outlined,  abrupt  in  rise, 
Where  waters  rush  down  in  a  storm. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  dark  walls  weird  in  shape  frowning 
Lift  in  pile  and  pillar  of  rocks, 

As  wrought  by  the  strong  hand  of  masons, 
Muted  column,  shaft,  and  piled  blocks. 

And  ever  the  long  gorge  is  changing 
Its  features  of  rock  and  of  hill ; 

\Vhile  among  them  rushes  the  river, 
Here  and  there  at  its  own  sweet  will. 

Many  times  we  cross  its  swift  waters 
In  passing  these  wild  canons  through  : 

While  astonished  our  eyes  behold 

The  strange  wonders  presented  to  view. 

I ; 


114  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Here  gray  rock  lifts  its  large  dark   columns 

In  a  high  and  long  palisade; 
It,  an  army  might  use  for  defence, 

With  no  fear  of  storm  by  wild  raid. 

Then  the  massed  piles  of  rock  in  grand  form, 
Like  heavy  embattlements  near, 

Hide  the  large  and  strong  fortress  whose  top 
Looks  over  them  just  in  the  rear. 

Grassy  belts  along  the  curved  pathway 
And  green  nooks  between  the  hills  lie, 

Where  silvery  the  waters  are  flowing 
When  white  sun-rays  fill  the  blue  sky. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


Now  the  high  walls  open  before  us 

Like  the  yawning  of  some  deep  abyss, 

As  if  Pluto  had  opened  a  storm-gate. 
To  the  regions  of  dark  P^  rebus. 

The  walled  sides  a  grand  arch  supporting, 
A  massed  pile  of  dull   grey  rock  ;  — 

The  buttresses  alone  remaining. 
In  solid  and  close  fitting  block. 

Foamy  waters  flow  down  the  dark  chasm, 
Swiftly  plunging  and  tumbling  through, 

P'or  the  warm  skies  to  raise  and  distil, 
Then  let  fall  in  sweet  evening  dew. 


Il6  MISCELLANEOUS. 


When  lies  through  the  mountains  our  pathway 
Thus  hiding  their  grandeur  from  view, 

Loss  then  to  sight  is  quickly  repaid 
By  novelty  strangely  new. 

A  long  sloping  hill,  and  high  reaching; 

Wide-spread  its  bare  open  side  ; 
From  base  to  top  spanned  by  low  walls. 

That  enclose  a  narrow  smooth  slide. 

In  short  columns  of  stone  o'er-lapping, 
Dark  and  heavy  near  the  hill's  base  ;  — 

As  it  lifts  to  the  bold  crown  graded, 
But  keeps  for  the  slide  even  space. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


When  the  hill  is  mirrored  and  doubled 

In  the  water  around  its  base, 
Beauty  is  given  to  the  singular  lines 

In  a  modified,  softened  grace. 

Here  is  piled  large  boulder  on  boulder. 
Like  some  ancient  high  pulpit,  where 

Above  the  people,  the  preacher's  voice. 
Is  heard  in  the  sermon  and  prayer. 

While  among  the  bold  rocks  and  mountains, 
Sleep  sweet  echoes,  that  softly  hide. 

Till  by  loud  sounds  they  are  awakened. 
Like  our  shouts,  to  mock  and  deride,         ' 


Il8  MISCELLANEOUS. 


That  repeat  as  astonished,  our  phrases, 
Our  exclaim  give  back  for  exclaim, 

To  their  quiet,  they  then  hie  away  ;  — 
And  in  a  long  silence  remain. 

Beneath  it,  we  may  stand  by  fifties 

Where  over-hangs  a  wide-spread  rock, 

That  mounts  up  like  a  hill  above  us, 
In  a  vast  immense  solid  block. 

Its  large  bulk  lower  and  back  pressing, 
Deep  into  the  hills  for  its  bed, 

While  its  dark  front  shoots  up  like  a  cap, 
Whose  flat  half  hangs  high  overhead. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


Now,  castles  like  homes  for  giants; 

Or  high  buttes  lift  up  in  long  row  ; 
And  well  filled  is  the  wide  space  between 

That  was  open  in  the  long  ago  ; 

With  the  broken  and  fallen  debris. 

Of  red  bricks  from  the  high  castle  walls, 

And  mortar  with  green  weeds  over  grown 
That  blocks  the  pathway  into  their  halls. 

And  near  by  are  more  crumbling  ruins, 
Like  old  castles  of  the  feudal  times  ; 

While  below  are  the  green  grassy  hills 
Redolent  of  summer's  sweet  thyme. 


120  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Here  and  there  is  a  tall  and  lone  shaft 
With  rock  castles — fit  place  for  gnomes, 

Grass-clad  mountains  and  warm  sunny  nooks 
Where  coyotes  may  find  their  homes. 

Strange  freaks  of  nature  mighty  and  grand 
Wildly  weird  in  shape,  are  so  planned, 

By  Him  who  fashions  the  universe, 
And  adorns  it  with  artist  hand. 

And  a  charm  has  this  wild  of  quick  change 
So  deftly  are  mixed  its  strange  freaks; 

The  wayward  and  grand  all  so  softened 
By  greens  that  drape  hillsides  and  peaks. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  I  2  I 


These  give  grace  to  grandeur  by  contrast. 
And  they  soften  all  sharp  defects ; 

Tender  greenness  and  sunlit  waters, 
Produce  strangely  pleasing  effects. 


Beautiful  are  all  in  the  bright  sunbeams 
Of  dewy  morning,  and  in  the  long  noons, 

They  light  up  the  streams 

With  silvery  gleams,  [blooms. 

Make  the  waters  light  foam,  like  showers  of  white 

And  mined  through  are  the  hearts  of  three  mountains, 
And  the  fast  stream  is  well  bridged  o'er  and  o'er 

16  


122  MISCELLANEOUS. 


For  path  through  this  piled, 
And  beautiful  wild, 
From  the  prairie  to  the  ocean's  smooth  shore 

And  all  these  quaintly  fantastic  wild  forms 
Are  strangly  pleasing  and  attractive  to  sight. 
When  comes  up  the  white  moon, 
To  light  the  weird  dark  gloom, 
Over  the  mountains  and  hills  in  the  night. 

Then  spindles  taller,  the  points  that  shoot  up, 
Into  an  airy,  light,  feathery  grace, 

Enlarge  rocky  fells, 

The  castles  and  swells 
Into  higher,  broader,  and  far  deeper  space. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  123 


The  fairies  with  leaves 

May  dance  in  the  breeze, 
And  the  elves  in  the  white  foaming  water, 

But  giants  and  gnomes 

In  their  castled  homes, 
Cheer  no  longer  with  loud  songs  and  laughter. 


GRAND    CANON    OF     THE    YEL 
LOWSTONE. 

When  the  evening  sun  in  splendor 
Sets  in  gold  and  crimson  glow, 

Through  the  canon  streams  a  soft  light, 
Like  the  sunset's  afterglow. 

And,  where  near  its  topmost  border 
Grows  the  fringing  shrub  or  tree, 

There,  through  them,  the  brilliant  colors 
Gleam  in  glories  rare  to  see. 

Flashing  crimson,  red  and  golden, 
Brightest  blue  and  tender  green, 

Suffusing  all  the  trees  and  bushes 
With  a  wonder-gleaming  sheen. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  125 


Shooting  through  the  narrow  crevice 
And  athwart  the  climbing  vines, 

Marking  every  clinging  tendril, 
That  amid  the  tangle  twines. 

Gleaming  near  the  roaring  waters, 
Dashing  o'er  the  rocky  height,  . 

Leaping  waves  like  molten  silver, 
Sparkling  in  the  wonder-light. 

Adown  the  walls  high  and  massive, 
Walls  of  creamy-tinted  rock, 

Nature-chiseled  frieze  and  column, 
And  the  smooth  and  ragged  rock. 


126  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Through  the  ages — Sunset  splendor 
Swept  the  grandeur  of  this  wild, 

Like  glory,  winged  from  court  of  heaven, 
'Till  it  in  its  beauty  smiled. 

And  the  years  reveal  new  marvels 
Of  this  wondrous  moutain  height, 

Bursting  into  gorgeous  splendors 
With  each  sunset's  glowing  light. 


MOUNT    SHASTA. 


Tehesta,  queenly  and  beautiful, 
Uplifts  her  commanding  form 

O'er  Sierra's  high  peaks,  ice-polished, 
Forests  and  long  valleys  warm. 

Enrobed  in  a  mantle  of  crystals, 
Glistening  as  dew  on  the  leaves, 

With  tints  of  the  rose  through  it  shining. 
As  o'er  the  lava  it  weaves. 


And  down  through  large  glacial  ice-blocks, 
That  gorge  her  sides  with  its  stream, 

A  wonder-bright  hue  of  greenness 
Like  emeralds  sparkling  gleam. 


128  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  in  the  deep  fold  of  some  crevice 
Glows,  reflected  heaven's  deep  blue, 

Where  stars  peer  down  in  the  night-time 
And  the  moon's  white  face  we  view. 


While  in  her  bosom,  slumbering, 

Is  liquid,  volcanic  fire, 
Some  nether  force,  active,  awaiting 

To  pour  out  its  burning  ire  ; 

As,  when  in  some  past  whirling  cycle 
Was  heavenward  thrown  this  tall  form, 

By  the  seething,  surging,  pent  fury 
Of  a  fierce,  volcanic  storm. 


MlSCELLANKors.  129 


Her  head  is  crowned  with  a  diadem 
Of  th£  brilliant,  golden  stars, 

And  her  jeweled  robe,  the  evening  sun 
Then  ribbons  with  crimson  bars* 

'Till  it  glistening  glows,  when  the  moon 

Shines  with  her  silvery  light, 
In  her  swift  march  with  the  starrv  thron<> 

^  o 

To  beautify  the  still  night. 

And.  alone,  the  fair  Butte  in  splendor 

Stands  at  the  head  of  a  host 
Of  high  mountain  peaks  in  their  grandeur, 

That  range  along  with  sea-coast. 


130  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  as  fair  among  them  and  peerless 

As  Luna  mid  starry  orbs, 
Though  she  beats  not  time  to  their  measure. 

Yet  with  them  her  warm  heart  throbs. 

And  spotless  in  silvery  glory 

Is  the  bright  sparkling  Butte, 
As  a  queen  in  purity,  holy, 

Grand,  majestic,  and  mute. 


THE    GOLDEN    GATE. 


Long  ago,  mid  years  that  sleep  in  the  past, 
Like  a  coast  line  guard,  the  mountains  were  massed 
From  north  to  south  of  this  western  strand 
Guarding  unknown  wealth  of  the  inner  land. 

But  there  came  a  day,  when  this  wall  of  rock 
\\  a<  riven  in  twain  by  an  earthquake  shock  ; 
And  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  mighty  tide 
Wore  away  the  rock  walls  and  opened  it  wide. 

And  rushing  waters,  exultant  and  free, 
From  fathomless  depths  of  the  mighty  sea. 
Swept  in  afar,  over  lowland  and  plain, 
'Till  a  bav  was  formed  from  the  rolling1  main. 


132  MISCELLANEOUS. 


In  the  dewy  hush  of  the  evening  gray, 
A  band  of  Franciscans,  knelt  down  to  pray, 
On  rolling  dunes  that  here  scattering  stray 
Along  the  shores  of  this  beautiful  Bay. 

And  then  to  the  waters  that  stretched  away, 
They  gave  the  name  "San  Francisco  Bay;" 
And  planted  a  cross  on  the  mountain  Lone, 
And  mingled  their  prayers  with  the  ocean's  moan. 

And  the  rolling  years  heard  the  march  of  feet. 
And  ploughing  of  waves  by  a  swift-winged  fleet; 
And  merchant  vessels  that  swept  through  the  Gate. 
In  the  early  morn  and  the  evening  late, 


MISCELLANEOUS.  I  3  3 


Beheld  what  St.  Francis'  fathers  had  done 
In  the  land,  which  lies  towards  the  setting  sun  ; 
But  not  one  of  the  many  could  e'er  lay  claim, 
To  the  giving  the  Gate  its  Golden  name. 

For  long  e'er  the  land  was  so  largely  known. 
Rich  fleets  had  sailed  in  from  every  zone ; 
And  each  comer  knew  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
But  no  one  then  knew  of  the  Golden  State. 

Now,  the  Golden  Gate  is  a  household  word, 
Piercing  many  a  heart  as  if  by  a  sword, 
And  for  the  many  who  sailed  through  the  Gate. 
Loved  ones  still  linger,  they  watch  and  they  wait. 


134  MISCELLANEOUS. 


But  still  it  lies  in  its  beauty  and  pride, 
And  ships  through  its  beautiful  waters  glide  : 
While  away  to  the  north  from  the  open  sea 
The  rock-hills  fall  down,  as  on  bended  knee. 

Then  sharply  turning,  from  Point  Honito, 

A  spur  from  the  hills  of  Saucelito, 

They  running  eastward  then  form  a  dark  wall, 

From  whose  dun  heights  the  many  sea-birds  call. 

And  the  red-brown  heights,  these  autumnal  days, 
Are  softly  enwrapped  in  a  purpling  haze, 
Which  tinges  the  water  and  reaches  across, 
And  tinges  the  grey  rocks  of  Point  Lobos. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


While  above  and  away,  drifts  the  creamy  sand 
In  hills,  and  in  dunes,  and  in  level  land; 
While  still  farther  on,  is  a  long,  wide  reach. 
Where  the  tide  sweeps  in  o'er  a  sandy  beach. 

Touching  the  low  swells,  which  come  sloping  down, 
From  the  distant  grey  of  the  hilly  town, 
\\  here  in  green  and  yellow  are 'flowers  and  trees 
Around  beautiful  homes  that  delight  and  please. 

Just  beyond  the  reach  of  the  highest  tide, 
And  embowered  with  vines  on  every  side, 
Stands  a  lowly  cottage  with  open  door, 
To  let  in  the  breeze  from  the  ocean  shore. 


136  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  up  from  the  rocks,  that  line  the  long  shore, 
Come  the  low  weird  sounds  of  the  seals'  harsh  roar, 
As  they  sport  and  play,  where  the  green  sea  laves 
The  high  rocky  cliffs  with  its  briny  waves. 

And  the  Farralone  Isles  loom  up  in  the  west, 
A  landmark  to  guide  the  mariner's  quest, 
Searching  it  may  be,  for  the  Golden  Gate, 
Espies  the  dark  Isles  in  the  evening  late. 

And  the  beacon  lights,  from  the  light-house  towers, 
Shine  over  the  waves,  through  the  long,  dark   hours, 
And  ships  come  and  go  through  the  lighted  way. 
Passing  to  and  fro,  in  and  out  from  the  Bay. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  137 


\Yhile  the  ships  incoming  from  lands  afar, 
Hail  a  Pilot  to  guide  them  over  the  bar; 
Where  the  plash  of  waves  and  the  breakers'  roar, 
Mingle  with  call  of  the  seals'  on  the  shore. 

And  we  watch  the  ships,  as  the}*  come  and  go, 
The  large -and  the  small,  the  swift  and  the  slow. 
And  think  of  the  many,  from  near  and  far, 
\\  ho  are  coming  and  going  neath  e\  ery  star. 

From  India's  coast  and  the  northern  seas, 
From  Xew  Zealand's  Isle  and  the  Hebrides, 
From  the  dark  Continento's  warm  sultry  shores, 
From  Asia's  border,  and  the  Isles  of  Azores. 

18 


138  MISCELLANEOUS. 


They  proudly  pass  through,  with  their  sails  unfurled 
From  the  many  ports  of  the  wide,  wide  world, 
While  the  differing  flags,  that  float  on  the  breeze. 
Bring  thought  of  the  lands,  that  lie  over  the  seas. 

Safely  crossing  the  bar  they  sail  into  port, 
Which   is  guarded  for  aye  by  many  a  fort, 
To  where  all  the  ships  in  security  lay 
In  the  fair  and  large  San  Francisco  Bay. 

And  this  Golden  Gate  is  open  ever, 
A  gateway  for  nations  it  stands  forever, 
To  the  fruitful  valley,  bay,  river  and  lake, 
And  gold-bearing  hill,  of  the  Golden  State. 


UP    THE    SAN    JOAQUIN. 


Up  the  long  river,  from  the  wide-spread  bay, 
In  its  serpentine  course,  we  wend  our  way, 
Through  valleys  and  fields  and  marsh-like  sed^e, 

o 

Tween  lithe  green  willows,  that  bend  o'er  its  edge. 

Through  a  region  level,  and  grand  and  vast, 

Where  long  it  has  coursed  through  years  that  are  past, 

In  its  spring-time  fullness  of  rapid  flow, 

Or  through  the  summer,  when  waters  are  low. 

We  see  the  long  reach  of  vales  to  the  north, 
Or  the  smooth  broad  sweep  that  trends  to  the  south, 
Xow  gay  with  bright  flowers  in  this  sweet  spring-time, 
But  touched  in  the  winter  with  frostv  rime. 


140  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  meadows  and  fields,  in  spring-bloom  so  fair, 
We  see  many  a  league  in  the  pale  blue  air, 
And  the  now  green  wheat  will  yellow  as  gold 
Be  harvested,  ere  the  young  spring  grows  old. 

Through  enchanting  scenes  winds  this  tree-fringed 

stream, 

Where  hangs  the  mirage  like  a  mystic  dream, 
And  where  ever  floats  a  wild  tangled  maze 
Of  vapory  white  and  violet  haze. 

Where  the  mist  at  eve  in  tremulous  fear 
Creeps  up  the  hills  in  ethereal  air, 
And  spreads  o'er  the  valley  its  filmy  webs, 
For  winds  to  whirl  up  in  vapory  shreds. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  141 


Here  across  the  wide  space  on  either  side, 
High  mountains  are  seen  in  grandeur  and  pride; 
The  bold  Sierra,  a  wall  in  the  east ; 
The  Coast  Range  mountains,  a  bank  in  the  west. 

While  we  look  far  o'er  this  bounded  space, 
Where  the  limpid  streams  with  vales  interlace, 
We  think  of  what  space,  must  there  seem  to  be, 
Far  out  on  the  boundless  billowy  sea. 

Where  the  sky's  deep  arch  in  beauty  serene, 
Or  the  shimmering  waves  alone  may  be  seen, 
As  the  sun  flashes  o'er  them  beams  of  light, 
Or  the  pale  moon  and  stars  shine  down  at  night. 


142  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Or  the  fleecy  mass  of  cumulus  clouds, 
That  betoken  a  storm  and  blackening  shrouds, 
When  the  lightning  will  shoot,  with  the  falling  rain, 
As  the  petrel  skims  o'er  the  glassy  main. 

And  from  these  high  peaks,  whose  bold  heads  of  light 
That  ever  are  crowned  with  a  robe  of  white, 
Large  ships  may  be  seen  as  they  sail  away 
Down  the  western  sea  in  the  sun-bright  day. 

And  thy  wrinkled  course,  fair  stream,  may  be  traced, 
In  brightness  that  never  can  be  effaced, 
To  where  through  the  bays  lined  with  hills  and  vales, 
Moat  the  many  white  boats  with  unfurled  sails. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  143 


And  afar  to  the  west,  where  sea  and  sky  meet, 
And  swelling  waves  dash  the  rock  crests  to  greet, 
Where  the  golden  sun  on  the  drifting  clouds 
Flashes  his  glory  in  deep  crimson  floods. 

But  for  thy  fair  waters,  that  sparkling,  gleam, 
We've  left  mount  and  sea,  O  beautiful  stream, 
And  as  vanishing  pictures,  mingle  and  blend, 
So  the  views  of  to-day  with  thy  waters  trend. 


NOTE. — "The  San  Joaquin  River  obtains  its  waters  from  the  living 
glaciers  of  Mount  Ritter,  the  minarets  and  other  lofty  peaks  of  the 
main  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains." — J.  M.  Hutchings. 


MONTE    DEL    DIABLO. 


Inland  to  the  east  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
In  the  Coast  Range  hills  of  the  Sunset  State, 
Towers  this  cone-shaped  mount  high,  bold  and  grand 
Like  a  sentinel  stationed  to  guard  the  land. 

It  smiles  on  vales,  sweeping  down  from  the  north. 
From  Mt.  Shasta's  feet  to  Tehachapi's  south, 
On  its  beauty  and  bloom  in  sweet  spring-time, 
Or  its  glittering  sheen  of  cold  winter  rime. 

And  its  shadow  falls  on  this,  or  that  side, 
In  sunshine  of  morn  or  the  evening  tide: 
And  waves  of  ocean  its  rocky  base  lave 
As  inflowing  they  mix  with  bay-river  wave. 


MISCELLANEOUS  145 


And  the  bold  head  is  seen  on  Sierra's  crest* 

Or  far  on  the  Pacific's  salt-sea  breast. 

O'er  sandhills  and  dunes  and  wild  beetling  cliffs 

Where  the  seals  and  mews  wail  their  doleful  griefs. 

And  incoming  ships,  near  the  sandy  bar, 
See  its  quaint  lone  height  in  the  east  afar, 
And  shape  their  course  with  no  pilot  at  hand* 
Hy  the  bared  brow  of  this  Mount  of  our  land. 

As  a  central  point  round  which  a  wheel  turns, 
This  Mount  seems  the  point  round  which  the  land 

yearns, 

And  from  its  summit  the  wayfarers  behold 
A  very  large  part  of  this  land  of  gold. 

IQ  


146  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Sees  snow-crowned  mountains  far  up  in  the  north, 
And  away  to  rolling  sandhils  in  the  south  ; 
From  where  morning's  sun  light  the  Sierra's  cones, 
To  where  at  eve  he  gilds  the  Harralones. 

And  thus  it  has  stood  through  ages  long  past, 

But  o'er  its  brow  a  dark  veil  has  been  cast, 

As  tradition  tells  of  a  long  ago  time 

When  strange  deeds  were  done  in  this  sun-bright  clime 

When  the  doom  of  many  were  sealed  on  this  height, 
And  it  shone  afar  in  the  darkening  night, 
As  on  it  burned  fires,  lit  by  human  hands, 
For  the  mystic  rites  of  the  savage  bands. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  147 


Or  as  signal  light  to  some  warrior's  band, 
Hastening  by  night  to  the  valley  land, 
To  meet  the  grim  hordes,  of  the  savage  race, 
That  chose  their  home  in  the  wild  mountain  pass. 

But  from  time  unknown,  through  a  rune-like  lore, 
Did  the  Indians  gather  their  tales  of  yore. 
And  Romish  priests-  out  of  tradition's  maze 
Learned  the  strange  acts  of  this  landmark  of  days. 

It  was  said,  that  red  flames  leaped  forth  in  the  night, 
And  demon-like  shapes  glided  over  the  height, 
And  strange  fearful  sounds  marked  this  mountain  cone 
As  the  dark  wild  home  of  some  evil  one. 


148  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Perhaps  they,  the  wild  storms  of  wind  and  rain, 
That  raised  the  river  and  covered  the  plain, 
With  the  earthquake  terror,  that  opened  the  mount, 
And  made  bays  of  the  sea, — placed  to  his  account. 

Hence  the  Fathers,  heeding  not  Nature's  claim, 
Gave  to  this  mountain  its  evil-fraught  name, 
Forgetting  that  Nature,  God's  acting  laws, 
Would  trace  all  weird  things  from  effect  to  cause. 

Hut  a  landmark,  we  of  to-day  behold, 
Majestic  in  mien,  stately,  grand  and  bold, 
Divested  of  all  weird  tales  of  the  past 
Save  the  name,  that  sleeps  on  its  wondrous  crest. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  149 


But  here,  all  unmoved  by  the  evil  name, 
The  flight  of  the  storm  clouds  is  seen  the  same, 
And  the  Signalist  stands  with  hand  on  the  keys 
And  flashes  their  passage  over  the  seas. 

And  when  in  the  valleys  pile  fog  and  mist. 
Bright  sunbeams  will  over  this  high  crest  drift. 
And  though  here  alone  the  Signalist  stands 
With  naught  but  a  speculum  in  his  hands. 

Yet  his  thoughts  wing  their  airy  noiseless  flight. 
Afar  to  the  north,  to  Mt.  Shasta's  height, 
And  quick  as  the  flash  of  the  gleaming  ray. 
The  answer  is  speeding  on  its  swift  way. 


I  SO  MISCELLANEOUS. 


The  turn  of  the  glass,  Mt.  Hamilton  speaks 
And  talks  of  the  wonders  of  nature's  freaks, 
Of  what  it  beholds  in  the  South  far  away, 
As  here  he  watches  the  elements  play. 

So  thought  speaks  to  thought  with  the  flash  of  light, 

Ignoring  distance  and  time  in  its  flight, 

Till  the  name  dies  out  in  the  good  that  appears, 

As  the  tidings  come  down  through  the  fleeing  years. 

Bold  crested  height  of  rare  service  to  man, 
This  lesson  you  teach,  whatever  the  plan  ; 
Though  circumstance  may  with  ill  cloud  a  name — 
The  good  use  of  life  will  bring  honored  fame. 


"LA    PIEDRA    PINTADA." 

OR,   THE    PAINTED    ROCK    OF    SAX    LUIS    OBISPO. 

On  a  height  of  the  Coast  Range  mountains, 

Inland,  far  above  the  blue  sea, 
Lies  a  dimpling  wide-spread  basin, 

Lone  Carissa's  long  plain  or  lea. 

While  never  a  stream  runs  from  it, 
To  the  centre  it  gently  inclines. 

Where  in  winter  a  salt  lake  forms, 
And  in  summer  a  salt  bed  shines. 

Each  rock  on  the  hills  surrounding, 
Is  stamped  like  some  symbolic  page. 

That  tells  of  a  strange  race,  extinct. 
In  the  world's  prehistoric  age. 


52  MISCELLANEOUS. 


But  like  some  mountain  cathedral, 

Intact  on  the  bed  of  the  lea, 
"La  Piedra  Pintada"  towers. 

Opening  out  to  the  western  sea. 

A  singular,  strange  formation. 

Ragged,  unique,  immense  and  high, 
An  inner  temple  inclosing, 

Whose  strange  wonders  fasten  the  eye. 

And  sea-washed  in  bygone  ages 
Was  the  high  plateau  of  salt  lands, 

The  wonderful  amphitheatre 

Where  this  vast  painted  rock  now  stands. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


53 


For  the  ocean  has  left  his  footprints* 

Fossil  shells  everywhere  abound 
They  carpet  the  rolling  hill-tops, 

They  pave  the  high  mountains  around. 

They  fleck  this  wonderful  temple, — 
Monumental  of  time  passed  by,— 

Whose  walls  thus  wrought  and  carved  strangely. 
Firm  abide,  while  the  ages  fly. 

And  within  is  a  vast  chamber, 

And  large  as  some  grand  palace  hall, 

Where  strange,  rude,  mystical  figures, 
Are  portrayed  on  the  high  rock  wall. 


20 


154  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Records,  archaeological, 

Of  some  strange  prehistoric  race, 
For  the  symbols  and  forms  are  proof 

Of  a  people  unknown  to  the  place. 

Here  are  wheels  and  suns  and  altars, 
And  rude  banners  and  belts  and  spears, 

And  forms  of  men  and  animals, 
UnefTaced  by  corroding  years. 

And  on  the  face  of  the  rocks  around, 
Are  forms  with  bright  rubric  signs  seen, 

On  the  walls  of  the  inner  chamber 

And  against  its  broad  sides  they  lean. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  t  5  5 


Marvelous  cone-like  cathedral  ! 

Strange,  weird  wonder  of  this  lone  wild  ! 
Your  quaintly  bright  colored  symbols. 

Our  thoughts  have  most  strangely  beguiled, 

In  the  temple's  large  inner  domain, 

Safely  sheltered  from  mountain  storms. 

Did  that  unknown  race  assemble 
To  worship  these  symbolic  forms? 

Or  was  this  the  Court  of  Justice, 

Where  they  talked  of  effect  and  cause, 

And  lacking  a  written  language 

On  the  rock-walls  engraved  their  laws. 


156  MISCELLANEOUS. 


And  is  its  fame  less,  that  to-day 

The  round  court  a  fold  is  for  sheep, 

Where  they  are  called  in  by  thousands, 

When  night  falls,  or  wild  storms  the  hills  sweep? 

A  strange  marvel  still  it  remains, 
Attractive  and  weirdly  unique. 
While  the  mountain  near  the  cone-swell, 
Seems  a  rival  with  its  high  peak. 

Scenes  of  beauty  are  seen  from  the  rock. 

Valley-plains  and  rivers  and  lakes  ; 
Tall  plane-trees,  and  willows  by  streams, 

And  over  the  hills  the  live-oaks. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  157 


Historic  rock  rich  with  records 

Well  stored  is  your  volume  so  vast, 

In  the  close-sealed  book,  what  knowledge 
Hold  you  of  a  time  in  the  past? 

What  men  lived  below  in  the  vales, 

By  streams,  and  on  the  tree-crowned  hill? 

Whose  history  is  stamped  on  your  face? 
Whose  archives  your  temple  now  fill  ? 

O  unrevealed  work  of  past  time, 

On  this  rock-height  grandly  you  stand  ; 

Waiting  its  seals  to  be  broken 

To  add  lore  to  the  lore  of  our  land. 


UP    AND    FROM    MT.    DIABLO 


Up  from  the  breezy  and  low  level  plain 
Of  a  sunny  vale,  green  with  grass  and  grain, 
Fringed  with  madrona,  dark  firs,  and  green  bay 
Bright  with  sweet  flowers  and  the  rivulet's  play. 

By  orchards  and  fields  we  speed  on  the  way, 
Up  the  flower-decked  hills  in  the  waning  day, 
Glowing  in  sunbeams,  that  play  o'er  the  swells, 
And  toy  with  shadows  in  the  deepening  dells. 

We  leave  the  low  hills  and  ravine  of  pines, 
Live-oaks,  laurels,  manzanita  and  vines, 
And  far  up  the  mountain  are  we  in  our  climb, 
When  lost  are  the  sunbeams  in  grey  foggy  rime, 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


But  the  breeze  is  cool  and  our  hearts  are  gay, 
So  we  turn  not  back,  but  still  upward  stray, 
Till  we  reach  the  crest  of  the  mountain  high, 
In  a  sea  of  mist  that  hides  earth  and  sky. 

When  out  of  the  gloom,  there  breaks  a  surprise 
Of  sunbeam's  splendor  on  our  dazzled  eyes. 
In  billowy  roll,  the  mist,  dense  and  gray, 
Folds  up  like  a  curtain  and  floats  away. 

And  streams  of  gold  light  from  the  low  bright  sun 
Pour  in,  where,  so  late,  all  was  gray  and  dun, 
Then  spangles  of  gold  illumine  the  lea, 
And  molten  gold  is  the  far-away  sea. 


160  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Like  an  Eden,  vales  in  the  wonder-light  lie, 
The  hills  and  waters  in  the  golden-hued  dye, 
Transfused  is  the  air,  and  each  shimmering  wave, 
And  glorious  gleam,  all  in  the  bound  lave. 

O  beautiful  storm  of  golden  sun-rays, 
That  burst  from  the  mist's  dark  cloudy  grays, 
In  such  radiant  beams  o'er  water  and  plain — 
Are  your  glories,  too  fleeting,  for  earth  to  retain? 


LONE    MOUNTAIN. 


Up,  from  the  sea-washed  walls  of  the  Golden  Gate, 
Spreads  a  city  o'er  hills  in  wide  estate, 
From  the  Mountain  Lone,  cross-crested  and  lorn, 
In  quiet  it  lies  in  the  violet  morn. 

A  city  of  marble  walls,  towers,  and  domes, 

Of  broken  columns  and  of  silent  homes, 

'Mid  the  springing  grassses  and  flowers  and  trees, 

And  music  of  birds  on  the  morning  breeze. 

Below  foam  the  waves  of  the  surging  sea. 
That  ever  in  calm  or  in  storm  swell  free:  — 
Ships  sail  in  and  out  through  the  Golden  Gate, 
Ships,  laden  with  more  than  a  golden  freight. 

21 


1 62  MISCELLANKOIS. 


And  many,  who  land  from  ships  that  come  in, 
Will  never  sail  out  with  the  fleet  again, 
Hut  will  rest  in  the  city  above  the  sea, 
'Till  they  wake  in  the  newness  of  life  to  be. 

Will  rest  in  the  quiet,  mid  flowers  and  trees, 
And  singing  of  birds,  and  the  hum  of  bees  ; 
Away  from  the  sound  of  the  loud  sea's  roar, 
As  it  surges  and  breaks  on  the  sunset  shore. 

Ships  sail  away — but  the  city  is  left, 

In  the  silence  that  sighs  of  life  bereft — 

Sail  away  through  the  mist  and  gloom  of  night 

To  a  flowery  land  steeped  in  morning  light. 


MISCELLANEOUS,  163 


\Vhere  through  amethyst  haze  glows  the  city  of  light 
And  water-streams  flow  in  their  crystal  white, 
And  pearl-filled  gates  in  the  walls  of  bright  gems. 
And  glory  that  sifts  through  the  golden  realms. 

And  the  Golden  Gate  by  the  river  of  life. 
Through  it,  the  Christ-named  pass  to  the  city  of  life  ; 
These  frul  their  sails,  by  the  evergreen  shore, 
In  the  dawn,  when  sapphire  tints  through  soft  light 
pour. 

Ships  will  sail  to  and  from  earth's  shores  of  land, — 
And  ships  will  sail  out  from  a  voiceless  strand. 
From  the  life  lived  here  to  the  life  beyond, 
While  ever  the  cvcles  of  time  move  round. 


THE    MAMMOTH    TREES. 

SEQUOIA     GIGANTEA. 

These  Sequoias  Gigantea, 

The  wonder-grove  of  Mariposa, 
Stand  in  quiet  grave  and  deep, 

As  sleeps  the  vale  of  Valambrosa. 

And  the  trees  of  Calaveras, 

Around  whose  heads,  above  tall  pines, 
The  last  bright  rays  of  evening  sun 

In  auriole  of  gold  mist  shines. 

Here  prostrate  lies  a  monarch  grand, 
Hollow,  with  roomy  opening  wide, 

Where  a  plumed  knight  on  stalwart  steed, 
Far  through  the  large,  long  trunk  may  ride. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


\\  hile  stands  his  mate  in  self  same  dress, 
A  branchless  form,  with  no  arms  spread, 

That  looms,  as  some  high  castle  tower 

With  sprigs,  like  palm-fronds  round  her  head. 

Apart  in  groves  of  fragrant  pines, 

And  scattered  stand  the  monarchs  few, 

And  in  size  and  height  far  more  grand, 
Than  till  late  days  the  world  ere  knew. 

Living  wonders,  breathing,  pulsing, 

When  Imperial  Rome  was  young, 
When  the  voices  of  her  sages, 

Through  Senate  Hall  and  Forum  rung. 


1 66  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Tender  shoots  when  stars  were  worshipped, - 
So  upward  went  Rome's  pious  thought, — 

When  her  wise  men  and  great  rulers, 

The  best  in  their  great  age,  then  wrought. 

Tall  young  saplings,  tender  growing, 
In  sweet  freshness  of  their  new  life, 
Among  the  pines,  ferns  and  mosses, 

With  Sabbath  rest  and  stillness  rife. 

• 

Ere  the  dawn  of  the  Christian  era, 

When  men,  enlightened,  were  unknown 

Save  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans, 
\Vhere  learning  held  her  highest  throne. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  167 


Xe\v  coats  forming,  when  great  praises, 

Their  orators  and  poets  sung, 
When  loud  plaudits  for  their  heroes 

From  statesmen  through  their  Senate  rung. 

Living,  growing,  down  the  era 

Of  the  Christian's  long  potent  sway. 

Through  the  changes  wrought  by  loving, 
Felt  in  all  earth's  lands  to-day. 

If  germs  from  which  their  large  forms  sprung, 

Had  lain  by  the  Adriatic 
In  them,  what  tales  might  now  lie  hid, 

Of  great  deeds,  grand  and  heroic. 


1 68  MISCELLANEOUS. 


History  has  not  on  her  pages  : 

Deeds  of  sacrifice,  for  the  love 
And  best  good  of  unborn  ages, 

That  would  our  hearts  most  deeply  move. 

August  wonders  !   pulsing  titans  ! 

Well  may  you  inspire  awe  sublime ; 
You  alone  of  living  marvels 

Breathing  have  bridged  this  space  of  time. 


SAN    FRANCISCO    BAY, 


O  wide-spreading  green  water 

Of  this  fair  sunset  bay! 
Flashing  ever  when  wind-blown 

A  silvery-white  spray, 

From  short  broken  wavelets  :  — 
And  dashing  foam-crested 

Like  flocks  of  startled  sea-birds 
White-winged  and  white-breasted. 

And  the  sea-like  space  bordered 
By  mountains  and  hills, — 

The  tossing  sun-lit  white  pearl-drops 
It  so  gracefully  fills. 


I/O  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Are  these  sea-nymphs  and  naiads, 
Who  so  come  in  grand  state, 

With  the  white  wings  of  the  storm-wind 
Through  the  Golden  Gate? 

To  hold  a  carnival  gleeful 

WTith  their  snowy  confects, 
To  charm  with  its  swift  motion 

And  fine,  novel  effects. 

To  add  a  new  grace  of  beauty, 
Did  they  weave  and  bring  in, 

This  soft  vapory  veiling 
To  fold  on  and  to  pin. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  I  7  j 


Over  the  violet  mountains 
With  such  beauty  and  grace. 

As  tries  a  fair,  modest  maiden 
To  half-hide  her  sweet  face. 

For  this  sally  of  the  naiads 
And  nymphs,  Neptune  fumes 

And  throws  his  cool  breath  in  'anger 
Up  in  stormy  volumes; 

And  through  the  opened  gate  waves  it 

In  a  billowy  roll, — 
In  the  fleecy  heap  and  tumbled 

Of  a  snowy  white  scroll : 


I 72  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Blows  the  clouds  of  white  vapor, 

In  and  over  the  bay, 
Till  they  find  in  the  canons 

Of  the  brown  hills  a  stay. 

And  large  islands  like  mountains 

From  the  water  lift  up, 
Apart,  spread  in  long  ridges, 

Or  deep  inverted  cup. 

And  these  are  mellowed  and  softened 

By  some  lovely  pale  hue, 
Of  violet,  of  purple, 

Or  of  pearl-white  and  blue. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  173 


And  tall  mountains,  majestic 

With  their  purple  caps  crowned, 

Smile,  as  pleased  with  the  grandeur 
Of  the  fair  scene  around. 

When  sleep  bleak  winds  and  stormy, 
In  the  calm  autumn  days, 

Then  in  soft  folds  and  gossamer, 
Comes  the  fair  veiling  haze. 

With  amethystine  tints  gleaming, 
That  thinly  covers  and  fills 

The  air  over  the  water, 
Over  plains  and  the  hills. 


174  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Then  is  changed  the  flashing  water 

To  an  opaline  sea — 
As  through  the  opaline  air 

The  many  boats  sail  free. 

In  storms  of  wind,  or  airs  balmy, 
In  clear  light,  or  soft  haze, 

Attractive  is  thy  fair  beauty 
In  its  every  phase. 


FIRST    ARBOR    DAY. 

AT    VERBA    BUEXA    ISLAND,    NOVEMBER    2/,    1 886. 

Verba  Buena's  western  slope, 

That  steeply  shelves  to  water  flow, 

Is  bright  with  life  this  Arbor  Day, 

Though  pale  the  autumn  sunbeams  glow. 

To  the  brown  arm,  that  o'er  the  hill 

From  eastern  slope  'mid  verdure  strays, 

The  children  come,  each  with  a  tree 
To  plant  for  use  in  future  days. 

Earth  parts  with  her  bright  robe  of  green, 
With  germs  of  spring-time,  flowers  of  gold. 

That  they  may  lay  a  life-lit  cross 
On  sandy  brown,  and  rocky  mold. 


1 76  MISCELLANEOUS. 


A  cross,  wherein  their  planted  trees 
Will  crown  with  wealth  the  sterile  sod, 

For  all  things  good  and  best  for  man, 
Are  the  things  owned  and  blest  of  God. 

So,  that  upon  this  island  quaint, 
The  eucalipti  and  fragant  pines, 

Will,  through  the  years,  a  lesson  teach 
To  those,  who  read  between  the  lines. 

And,  when  in  future  years  they  come, 
Proud  their  tall  trees  to  see  and  know, 

And  understand  this  aid  divine, 

Their  faith  in  God  will  stronger  grow. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  177 


Though  o'er  the  hillsides,  groves  will  spring 
From  Arbor  Days,  as  swift  years  flee ; 

But  dearest  held  among  them  all, 

The  first,  the  crusader's  cross  will  be. 


BERKELEY,    CALIFORNIA. 

A    DAY    IN    MIDWINTER. 

Back  from  the  classic  collegiate  halls, 

The  long  mountains  rear  their-  rounded  walls, 

Knrobed  in  a  mantle  of  tender  green, 

Or  dashed  with  the  shades  that  lie  between. 

Near  the  halls  are  groves  of  differing  trees, 
Whose  evergreen  branches  wave  in  the  breeze, 
And  on  the  lawns,  as  in  a  sunny  room 
Through  all  the  year  long,  the  bright  flowers  bloom. 

Here  and  there  are  trees,  eucalyptus  and  bay, 
In  groves  and  in  belts,  where  lowlands  stray  ; 
And  across  the  fields  in  its  fair  estate 
Gleams  the  crystal  path  through  the  Golden  Gate. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  1/9 


In  summer-like  sweetness  as  birds  in  June, 
Meadow-larks  warble  their  short  sweet  tune, 
In  the  open  fields  amid  grass  and  grain. 
As  summer-birds  sing  after  showers  of  rain. 

And  the  Cottager's  door  stands  open  wide, 
To  let  in  the  breeze  on  the  sunny  side, 
The  breeze  that  is  soft  and  as  balmy  to-day, 
As  when  apple-trees  bloom  in  flowery  May. 

And  flowering  shrubs  of  a  warmer  clime 
The  accacia  bright  in  its  yellow  rime, 
And  rarest  roses,  that  in  June  days  bloom, 
Spread  o'er  this  beauty  their  rich  perfume 


180  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Lovely  scenes  in  this  sunshine  and  calm, 
That  smile  in  peace,  soft  as  a  whispered  psalm, 
Or  glow  in  hues,  spreading  rich  and  rare — 
As  a  garden  of  the  Lord,  ye  seem  so  fair. 


OVER    THE    BAY. 

SAX    FRANCISCO    BAY. 

Over  the  bay  the  gray  mist  creeps  down  ;  — 

Over  the  island's  emerald  crown, — 

And  softly  veils  its  mirror-like  face, 

And  dims  its  sunny-bright,  sparkling  grace. 

Over  it  sifts  the  feathery  spray, 
And  drifts  into  dells  mid  hills  away 
Over  the  island's  abrupt  outlines, 
Yerba  Buena's  live  oaks  and  vines. 

Over  it  spreads  like  a  falling  cloud 
When  night  drops  down  its  blackening  shroud  ; 
Then  one  by  one,  the  gold  stars  look  through, 
And  moonbeams  play  in  its  spray-like  dew. 


1 82  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Over  the  bay  breaks  the  morning's  light, 
In  crimson  glow  from  the  mists  of  night, 
Softly  the  morning  stars  melt  away, 
And  sink  in  the  beams  of  golden  day. 

Over  the  meadows,  over  the  plain, 
Over  green  fields  of  the  tender  grain, 
Over  the  hills  in  emerald  fold, 
Float  the  wide  waves  of  shimmering  gold. 

So  along  the  path  that  leads  to  God 
A  gold  light  lifts  o'er  the  misty  sod  :  — 
Like  the  shimmering  rays- of  golden  morn, 
Or  the  beautiful  hues  that  eve  adorn. 


CHOW-CH1L-LA. 

MARIPOSA     COL'XTV. 

\Vhere  Sequoia  trees,  the  wawona, 
Lift  their  large  forms  tall  and  fair, 

There  lifts  above  them  the  Cho\v-chil-la, 
Its  proud  head  in  higher  air. 

And  grand  among  the  higher  mountains, 
With  graceful,  gigantic  things, 

Where  the  loud  roar  of  bear  and  lion 
From  their  rocky  stronghold  rings. 

Down  the  long  side  leaps  Chil-noo-al-na 
In  deep  chasm,  o'er  beetling  crag, 

Where  on  the  brink,  with  step  arrested, 
Halts  the  springing,  bounding  stag. 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


Chil-noo-al-na's  dashing  waters 

In  rocky  channel  speeds  away, 
Boldly  leaping,  loudly  shouting, 

In  th undertones  its  roaring  lay. 

The  dashing,  foaming,  sparkling  water, — 
Brightening  dull  earth  with  its  light. — 

Of  bold  Chow-chil-la's  rock-veined  mountain 
With  its  gleams  of  silver-white. 

Like  sentinels  the  trees  Sequoia 

Stand  in  group  anear  its  base, 
To  guard  as  titans  a  grand  monarch 

Of  gigantic,  noble  race. 


MISCKLLANEOl  > 


Trees  the  mightiest  among  wood-kings, 

Large  and  tall  in  sylvan  grace. 
And  fairest  of  titanic  wood-nymphs 

Are  here  grouped  in  narrow  space. 

Grander  swells  rock-seamed  Chow-chil-la, 

Fairer  for  their  beauty  bright, 
While  water  of  the  Chil-noo-al-na, 

Graces  it  with  sparkling  light. 

As  round  forms  human,  rough  and  stalwart, 
Graces  gleam,  that  all  hearts  move, 

When  lives  with  good  deeds  e'er  are  teeming, 
Acts,  that  spring  from  purest  lo\e. 

24 


THE    CREEK. 


O  little  streamlet,  whither  away 

Flow  you  to  brighten  this  young  spring  day? 

Hurrying  on  in  your  silvery  line, 

With  ripple  and  glint  in  bright  sunshine. 

Whither  away  in  your  deep  rock-bed,        ^ 
By  the  mountain  snows,  and  rain-drops  fed? 
Whither  away  in  your  silvery  vein 
Warbling  and  singing  a  merry  strain? 

The  grasses  are  green  in  the  valleys  wide, 
The  grasses  are  green  on  the  smooth  hillside, 
A  cloudless  sky  is  over  your  head, 
Nodding,  sweet  flowers  bend  over  your  bed. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  187 


Whither  away  in  the  leafy  shade 
Rippling  along  o'er  the  sloping  grade, 
Over  sand  and  rocks  your  waters  play, 
Or  slip  into  pools  to  dry  away. 

Ever  you're  swelling  with  winter  rains 
Rolling  and  dashing  in  noisy  strains, 
Plunging  to  deepen  the  sandy  bed 
Filling  the  valleys  with  sandy  lead. 


\\  hen  summer  days  come  we  walk 

j 

Where  your  waters  sang  their  sweet  spring  song, 
But  your  bed  is  dry  and  the  rocks  are  bare, 
\\  hile  breezes  are  blowing  everywhere. 


1 88  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Moaning  and  sighing  among  the  pines, 
Swaying  the  branches  that  wave  the  vines, 
While  the  gardens  are  bright  with  roses  rare, 
And  the  sun's  warm  beams  shine  everywhere, 

Beautiful  spring-creek  and  flowers  and  trees, 
And  grasses  fair  in  dew,  or  the  breeze;  — 
Beautiful  all  earth  in  the  dear  God's  plan 
To  please  and  make  happy  the  life  of  man. 


SUTRO'S    STATUE    OF     LIBERTY. 


On  the  Olympus  by  the  sunset  sea. 
Her  torch-light  lifting  in  mid-air  free, 
Liberty's  Statue  stands  high  and  grand, 
To  crown  the  mountain  of  rock  and  sand. 

And  firmly  grasped,  as  by  maid  of  eld, 
In  her  right  hand  is  the  large  torch  held  ; 
Pointing  heaven-ward,  as  if  to  pray,  that  the  light 
Gleam,  to  end  the  reign  of  Slavery's  night. 

The  sword  of  Justice,  of  its  sheath  bereft, 
With  arm  extended,  is  held  in  the  left : 
While  low  at  her  feet  the  tyrant  lies 
With  his  hand  tipstretched  to  clutch  the  prize. 


1 90  MISCELLANEOUS. 


But  vain  his  attempt  to  wrest  the  sword, — 
And  futile  the  cry  of  his  wrathful  word, — 
While,  he  is  crushed  neath  Liberty's  heel, 
With  not  power  left  to  make  an  appeal. 

For,  from  where,  the  Atlantic  rolls  her  waves, 
And  near  the  Bertholdi  statue  laves 
The  Eastern  shore  of  our  wide-spread  land 
To  Sutro's  statue  on  the  western  strand. 

No  slave,  in  all  the  broad  space,  can  breathe, 
While  glory  round  Liberty's  symbols  wreathe, 
And  love  of  right  and  greatness  combined, 
Glows  in  each  citizen's  heart  and  mind. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  191 


Far  over  the  sea  and  on  the  bay 

This  tall  light  spreads  its  gleaming  ray, 

O'er  cliffs,  and  far-away  hills  of  land, 

And  clustered  dunes,  and  the  shore  of  sand. 

And  from  the  far-reaching  brilliant  flame, 
A  glory  reflects  on  the  author's  name ; 
For  love  of  mankind  may  its  strong-white  fire, 
The  kindred  mind  and  the  heart  inspire, 

'Till  Liberty's  light  blazes  on  the  Isles 
Along  Asia's  shores  in  gleaming  files, 
O'er  Europe's  sea-ports  and  Isles  of  Azores, 
Till  it  band  the  world  to  our  free  shores. 


CONSERVATORY    FOUNTAIN 

IN    WINTER,    SAX    FRANCISCO,    CALIFORNIA. 


On  the  listening  ear,  fall  the  fountain's  showers, 

Softly  on  the  leaves, 

As  rain  from  the  eaves  ; 

Or  the  rivulet  weaves, 

Round  the  golden  sheaves, 
Drops  on  the  grass  sod  and  the  clover  flowers. 

As  spring  rain-drops  fall,  through  fragrant  air, 

In  glassy  rain-threads 

On  tropic  flower  beds, 

Where  light  color  weds 

Some  rich  hue,  and  sheds 
A  radiance  on  lily  and  orchis  fair. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  1 93 


In  silvery  beaded  lines  the  streams  drop  low  ; 

On  the  leaves  they  bound 

With  refreshing  sound, 

As  when  brooks  rush  round 

Over  pebbly  ground, 
(  )r  spread  in  sheets  of  spray  like  mist-driven  snow 


And  as  on  the  field,  falls  pearly  summer  rain, 
In  showers,  soft  and  light, 
On  the  daisies  white, 
That  with  morning  bright 
Ope,  fresh  from  the  night, — 

Thoughtfully,  singing  in  a  low  tender  strain. 


IQ4  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Like  sounds  of  water  in  bright  leafy  June, 

In  the  spring's  cool  well 

Under  rocky  fell, 

In  a  wildwood  dell ; 

And  sweet  as  the  swell 
That  the  wood  lark  sings  in  his  tender  tune. 


Hut  in  sunbeams  of  fount  in  summer  air, 
Bees  will  come  to  bathe, 
And  humming  birds  lave, 
In  the  spray's  thin  wave, 
Neath  the  sky's  blue  nave, 

While  the  breezes  play  mid  its  forms  so  fair. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  195 


So  our  thoughts  reel  their  threads  in  sunny  skeins, 

As  if,  in  leafy  shade 

Of  a  forest  glade, 

Where  cool  waters  play, 

And  wild  echoes  stray, 
\Ve  dream,  while  it  seems,  as  if  summer  reigns. 


THE      ENCAMPMENT     OF      1886. 

IN    SAN    FRANCISCO,    CALIFORNIA. 

More  than  quarter  of  a  century, 
With  flight  of  time  has  passed, 

Since  to  battle  for  the  Union's  cause, 
Our  nation's  sons  were  asked. 

When  up  from  every  town  and  village 

And  city  street  there  came, 
Throngs  of  brave  men,  strong,  true  and  loyal 

Each  to  enroll  his  name. 

And  many  fierce  and  bloody  conflicts 

Could  they  the  story  tell, — 
Would  bear  witness  to  their  brave  valor, 

And  duties  done,  as  well. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  197 


And  many  men  of  these,  fell  victims 

In  the  long  and  bitter  strife, 
Paid  costly  price  to  save  the  Union, 

They  giving  all,  with  life. 

Though  here  to-day  'neath  wind-blown  banner:- 
Their  comrades  march  our  streets, 

And  hear  the  shouts  of  cheering  welcome 
By  which  our  city  greets. 

Though  they  march  'neath  arch  triumphal, 

And  o'er  a  flower-strewn  way, 
With  mementoes — thrilling  memories 

Come  sad  to  us  this  day. 


198  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Here  the  comrades  bear  a  young  eagle, 

Brought  from  a  northern  wild, 
For  the  one  they  bore  through  their  battles, 

'Mid  ranks  of  soldiers  filed. 

That  screamed,  in  fiercest  fray  the  loudest, 

And  flapped  its  wings  to  cheer, 
With  screech  and  scream  as  if 'twould  say, 

On,  braves,  on  !    have  no  fear. 

And  drums  that  trolled  their  din,  with   louder 

Din  of  the  battle  strife  : 
And  trophies  held  with  the  souvenir 

Of  many  a  noble  life. 


MISCELLANEOUS.  199 


But  most  sad  the  sight  of  battered  flags 

Blackened  with  battle  smoke, 
Riddled  and  torn  with  the  shot  and  shell 

Of  some  fierce  battle  shock. 

I 

Some  were  tattered  rags,  shivered  remnants 

Some  bound  to  standard  fast; 
One,  held  tenderly,  out-spread  and  pierced, 

As  by  each  cannon's  blast. 

O  veterans,  with  war's  insignia, 
Though  so  long  since  the  strife, 

Ye  bring  to  us  afresh  the  terror 
With  which  that  time  was  rife. 


200  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Anew  we  feel  the  pain  and  anguish, 

Felt  in  that  fearful  time, 
When  our  dear  ones  were  with  their  brothers 

Cut  down  before  their  prime. 

X 

4 

O  days,  of  scenes  sad  and  heart-rending, 

In  all  that  bloody  past ; 
Must  ye  in  memory  ever  live? 

Must  ye  all  time  outlast? 


TO    THE    PACIFIC. 


O  western  sea,  so  vast  and  deep  ! 
Thy  restless  waters  in  their  round 
E'er  roll  and  surge,  but  never  sleep, 
And  never  break  their  measured  bound. 

The  sun  sails  o'er  in  depths  of  blue, 
And  showers  gold  light  upon  thy  face, 
The  moon  and  stars  with  light  as  true. 
Silver  thy  waters  with  their  grace. 

O  moaning  sea,  wave-tossed  and  lone  ! 
Thy  loud  song  with  the  swelling  tides 
Thunders  along  in  monitone, 
Adown  the  land-rimmed  scalloped  sides. 

26 


202  MISCELLANEOUS. 


Sail  ships  skim  o'er  thy  waters  fair, 
Like  white-winged  birds  in  easy  flight, 
And  gleams  of  beauty,  when  the  air 
Breathes  gently,  and  the  day  is  bright. 

When  faintest  amethystine  tints 
Glow  in  thy  veil  of  thinnest  haze, 
With  gold  in  morning  light,  that  hints 
Of  summer,  in  soft  autumn  days. 

When  sunset  lights  thy  glassy  waves 
And  foamy,  with  its  oriflame ; 
With  glowing  red  thy  surface  laves 
From  clouds  that  blaze  in  sunset's  flame. 


MISCELLANAOUS.  203 


O  sea,  we  dread  thee  in  the  storm, 
When  the  mad  vind  in  tempest  raves  ; 
And  in  many  a  frightful  form, 
Dash  and  break  the  angry  waves. 

When  ships  go  down  and  leave  no  trace, 
Clasped  by  huge  waves  storm-hid  in  night, 
But  tempest-beats  through  widening  space, 
Are  hushed  when  morning  breaks  in  light. 

O  sea,  earth,  thee  can  never  move, 
Held  in  thy  bound  by  destined  plan  ; 
As  ever  the  Great,  Eternal  Love 
Encompasses  the  life  of  man. 


U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 
III 


)  Hill  Hill  I 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


